


Ashes to Ashes

by 0mile



Series: Playing with Fire [3]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Animal Death, Blood and Injury, Crossover Cameos - Freeform, Deities, Dragons, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Magic, Major character death - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Witchcraft, a happy ending of which happy is debatable, final part of the series, graphic depictions of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26009821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0mile/pseuds/0mile
Summary: Peace has returned to the country, or so it seems.A series of strange events have Changbin wondering who the real enemy is. Can he save his loved ones without losing everything?---3rd and final part of Playing with Fire
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Seo Changbin
Series: Playing with Fire [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526963
Comments: 98
Kudos: 121





	1. The Cold

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THE TAGS!!!!! 
> 
> We're finally here, at the end of the series. Buckle up, because this one is going to be heavy. I'll be clearing up everything that happened in the first parts of the series and tying everything together. I want to warn again, read the tags. The big and scary MCD tag however does not apply to the main pairing. But still, a lot of bad things will happen in this one, so please be aware of this. 
> 
> updates will once again be every Friday!! <3

Changbin watches his feet dip into the snow, his thin shoes sinking with every step. It’s quiet, way too quiet, like he’s the only one in the world. There’s just one sound and it’s the rhythmic crunch of snow being pressed together under his feet. He can feel the cold, can feel it all the way in his bones. It’s making his knees hurt with every step, but he carries on.

The river shouldn’t be frozen. It has never happened before. But then again, Changbin has the feeling that there have been many unregular things happening lately, though he cannot remember… he cannot remember much at all. His mind is as foggy as the permanent mist that has settled over the quiet capital.

He spots him in the middle of the river, just the silhouette of his narrow shoulders covered by a thick, fur coat. Changbin speeds up, almost running on the slippery snow-covered river. Next to him is the carcass of one of the bridges, never rebuilt, still falling apart. Changbin runs even faster.

Jisung puts his finger to his lips when Changbin approaches, silencing him. Then, Jisung looks back into the hole he’s made in the ice where his fishing line disappears into the dark, black water. 

Changbin watches his friend in silence. He dances on his feet a bit, trying so desperately to stay warm, to not get frozen like the rest of his world. Changbin looks down at his feet, seeing the black dots that the snow is speckled with. He rubs the nose of his shoe into the snow, melting it with the movement. It leaves gray streaks on the ice that’s hiding underneath.

 _“Got one!”_ Jisung finally says, pulling back his fishing rod with a quick jerk. 

He takes the fish off the hook and holds it up in his hand, showing it off to Changbin. The fish is dead, has been dead for a while now. Changbin can smell it, like it’s crawling into his nose and settling into his skin. The dead fish stares back at him, two sets of clouded eyes. Two-headed fish are a regular thing nowadays.

Jisung starts poking at the rotten meat, pulling the soft mush off with his fingers and stuffing it into his cheeks. His voice is muffled around the food when he tries to speak, so Changbin has to lean in to hear him better, nauseated from getting closer to the smell.

 _“It’s delicious,”_ Jisung says, _“absolutely perfect.”_

A harsh nudge to his shoulder wakes him up. He’s dizzy, a bit disoriented when he opens his eyes to find himself sitting on the throne.

“Leave it to the king to fall asleep on the job,” Cheonsa says in the seat next to him, inspecting her nail beds, pretending like she didn’t shove him just now.

“Right,” Changbin’s voice cracks, “I did,” he confirms, more to himself than to his sister. 

It’s like he can still feel the cold from his dream, settled deep in his bones. The throne room has never been the warmest place in the palace, but still, it’s way too chilly this early in autumn. His eyes fall on the two guards on each side of the door, reminding him of his eerie reality.

Changbin knows he should be grateful to have new forces, to replace the soldiers who died in the war, he really should. But he can’t help but be a little bit… scared of the creatures Minho has created.

He watches the one on the right blink one out of its four eyes, the lid closing vertically instead of horizontal. The one on the left is a bit shorter in stature, hunched over, two droopy ears falling on each side of its non-human face. And as always, they carry the awful smell of rotten flesh, a bit dissipated now with the amounts of spells Minho has put on them. However, it’s still there, just slightly, but ever-present. 

“Let the next one in,” Changbin says, gesturing his hand at one of the guards, keeping his demand simple. 

The guard turns, a little stiff on its legs and its webbed hand misses the door handle twice before opening it and letting another citizen into the room. The man who enters looks spooked, attention shifting between both guards and his face paled, clutching onto the burlap sack he holds in his hands.

“I’ll kill one of those monsters for fun one of these days,” Cheonsa hisses next to him, disgust in her voice. 

“Hey now,” Changbin whispers back, “they’re harmless.”

“That’s the problem!” Cheonsa raises her voice. “I need real–”

“Your Majesty,” the citizen interrupts boldly, staring at the floor he’s kneeling on. The middle-aged man’s hands look weathered and his back has the curve that only hard workers get with age. Changbin feels like he should honor his urgency.

“What did you bring?” Changbin asks, cocking his chin at the sack.

The man empties the bag onto the floor, apples falling out and scattering, rolling everywhere across the room. The smell is sour, bad. One apple rolls as far as to Changbin’s throne, coming to a stop in front of the steps. It’s bruised, rotten, a single maggot crawling out of it. 

Changbin brings his hand to his face, covering it. Before he can ask, the man speaks again.

“Six hundred trees in my village, all rotten. Selling apples is our only way of living, we have survived like this for a hundred years now. Never have we seen such a bad harvest.” The man’s voice cracks on the last word, obviously disturbed. It’s only now that Changbin notices how boney the man’s wrists are, how skinny he looks.

It’s not the first bad harvest Changbin has heard of. In most of the towns surrounding the capital, there have been issues with crops failing, or cattle dying of diseases. It’s promising to be a rough winter if it keeps up like this. It’s never been this bad, so Changbin doesn’t know how to fix it. He just knows how to treat the symptoms instead of the cause.

“We will send someone back with you, someone who will determine how many bags of rice we can give you,” Changbin starts, forever grateful for the tonnes of rice the new Sinhaean emperor has been shipping to them as a peace offering. Then, he adds, “And your town will send everyone who is good to work with their hands this way to help us rebuild the Northern side of the capital. We will pay for their labor, of course, and I hope it will keep your town from collapsing until the next harvest comes.” 

“Thank you, Your Majesty, thank you so much.” The man bows until his forehead touches the floor, amidst the scattering of rotten apples.

Despite the man’s gratefulness, Changbin doesn’t feel at ease. No, he feels like there will be many more visitors like this.

* * *

“Move, asshole,” a young lady says as she bumps into Changbin’s shoulder, hard.

To be fair, he _is_ kind of standing in the way. He pulls the hood further over his head and distances himself a bit, leaning against one of the houses so that the people can move past him easier to get in line for the food. 

He pulls the scarf over his chin to hide more of his face, the wool tickling his cheeks but warming him in a pleasant way. It’s really too cold for this time of the year. Normally he wouldn’t go this far into town, especially not without a guard, but Hangyeol is taking a personal day off, again, and Changbin was feeling kind of lonely.

So he just stands there, letting the cold brick dig into his back as he watches Hyunjin and Jisung pour bowls of rice porridge for the less fortunate people of the capital. It was Hyunjin’s idea to distribute free food to everyone who needed it. He thought it was the least they could do after the war. Changbin loved him for that idea.

But it seems like the people love Hyunjin even more for it. It’s like their faces just light up with adoration when they see him, showering him with thanks as he scoops an extra big heap of porridge into their bowls. As expected, Jisung is loved too, joking around with kids and flirting with old ladies. 

It does Hyunjin well. The admiration seems to go to his heart, giving him more confidence and power, makes his magic feel a bit more vast and stable. Hyunjin is starting to believe that he can do well again, that he is _not_ a deadly monster like he thought he was after his… lava situation on the battlefield.

Changbin gets in line eventually, eyes cast down on the floor in the hopes of the general public not recognizing their king. He can’t fool Hyunjin though, his lover probably already noticed him as soon as he walked out of the alley.

“Beautiful evening, isn’t it, sir?” Hyunjin asks, his cheeks rosy and dimpled with a smile. Steam wafts up from the porridge as he fills up the bowl.

“Don’t give him too much,” Jisung jokes next to him, nodding at Changbin’s tummy that’s hidden under his cloak. 

Changbin takes the bowl before Hyunjin can add another scoop. “Don’t worry, friend,” he says with a wink at Jisung, “I won’t come back for seconds.” 

“Oh, mister saint over here will be giving you seconds tonight, I bet.” Jisung elbows Hyunjin’s side as he says it, tongue in cheek. Hyunjin almost drops his spoon, but laughs at Jisung’s teasing regardless, his cheeks heating up even more.

The bowl feels just as warm in Changbin’s hands as Hyunjin’s cheeks look. As he walks away, holding the bowl close to his face to blow at the steam, he gets the feeling that Hyunjin must be using his magic to keep the giant pot of food warm as they slowly work through the line of commoners. 

Changbin resides at his previous spot, leaning against the side of a building, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible as he slurps his porridge, getting bits of mushy rice all over his top lip. 

The city is calm now, as calm as it can be, but it’s all deceit. Changbin knows what’s truly going on in the streets as soon as the sun goes down, but he has no idea how to stop it. With poverty increasing, so did crime. 

There are way more robberies these days, murders even, all for a couple of pennies. The people who have some change to spend, spend it desperately in illegal gambling dens, getting scammed out of their money in rigged games. Changbin has even heard whispers of the old fighting rings opening up again, an even riskier way of gaming for money. He just hopes it’s not as bad as the rumors are.

A lady in the food line gets closer to Hyunjin, not at all interested in the food he’s offering her. Changbin holds his breath as he watches, slight worry in his gut as he clutches his already empty bowl. Against expectations, the lady drops to her knees, rubbing her hands together in gratefulness in front of Hyunjin, 

Hyunjin looks flustered, urging the lady to get up. But the lady can’t see him, because her eyes closed as she whispers some words. Almost as if she’s praying. Finally, Hyunjin’s eyes widen, glistening like they’re reflecting the light of an unburned fire.

He looks up at Changbin, all the way across the street square, and when their eyes meet, Changbin can feel the fire. 

It burns hotter than ever before. 

* * *

“What is he doing?” Changbin slows down, coming to a stop next to Seungmin, squinting to see through the dark under the moonless sky. 

“He’s been coming here every night to just–” Seungmin shifts on his feet, uncomfortable, the metal of the bucket with hay whines loudly in his hand as he moves, cutting through the silence.

Even with the sound, Minho doesn’t look up from across the courtyard. He just continues to whisper to Geom, so quiet that his words get lost in the icy breeze. Minho has his hands on the dragon’s chin, holding his large head up slightly so he can properly look at him. His eyes are soft, loving and caring even, like a parent looking at a child. The man doesn’t notice them and just continues to whisper, unbothered. 

Changbin feels the hairs in his neck stand up.

He pulls on Seungmin’s shoulder and cocks his head to the side, gesturing for them to get out of there. Together, they walk through the little gate that leads to the stables, eyes on the ground. Changbin can feel that there’s something that Seungmin wants to say, but he won’t push him. 

Seungmin empties the bucket of hay onto a big pile next to the stables, quietly tapping the back of it as to not wake the horses. He’s wearing a frown, lost in thought, completely ignoring Changbin. But then, he finally turns.

“I want to retire,” is all that he says. 

“You–” Changbin huffs, completely baffled. “Seungmin, you’re so young.”

“Retire from being a royal staff member. I’ll still be working,” Seungmin takes a shaky breath and lets his eyes fall on the palace’s bare walls, looking up at them, and then, “just not here.”

Changbin drops his gaze, staring at his shoes. He hears one of the horses grunt in the stables, waking from its sleep. Seungmin has been working for Changbin’s family ever since he was a kid, already more knowledgeable than anyone else when it came to horses. Seungmin’s father brought him in, and even when the man died, Seungmin stayed. He’s like family to Changbin.

He doesn’t want him to leave, but that’s why he should let him. No matter what the reason is, everyone deserves freedom. He doesn’t want to tie him down and be the cruel king that his father was.

“You live here, though,” Changbin says, pointing at Seungmin’s shed behind the stables.

He nods. “I found something. It’s not much but–” Seungmin moves to pull at a loose string on his coat. “I can live with a family in exchange for taking care of their horses.” Then, he adds, “They live by the river.”

The words sound more meaningful than they should be, so Changbin lets them run through his mind for a bit. Then, he realizes.

“Jeongin?”

Seungmin takes a deep breath and exhales loudly, considering his answer. Then, he just says, “I’ll be gone by the end of the week.”

* * *

“Please, I just want to sleep,” Changbin whines when he’s met with another abomination of a guard blocking the door to his bedroom. 

The guard brings up one of its three arms, the one that looks most human, and points down the hallway. Its eyes are completely black, devoid of an iris, staring Changbin down and giving him no choice but to walk in the direction the monster points at. As soon as he starts walking, the guard follows him, the only sound in the hallway being the weird, sliminess of the guard’s footsteps. 

Nerves rise in his stomach when he realizes he’s being led to the throne room. It’s way too late to have an audience with someone now, and he surely doesn’t remember having an appointment. But he hears a familiar laugh echo out of the room as he comes closer, and then an even more familiar one.

“Changbin!” his mother calls as he finally enters the room, “You didn’t tell me you had such a beautiful lady friend!”

“Actually, even though your son has been to my house before, but I’ve never met the young king.”

Changbin freezes in the doorway. He ignores his mother’s delighted face. He doesn’t acknowledge Chan giving him a somewhat apologetic smile, or the worried look on Felix’s face. He doesn’t even gather the sharp glare from the young altar boy he’s met such a long time ago, the one with hair as red as blood.

He remembers seeing the painting in her temple, the one Minho led them to. The art portrayed a beautiful woman having cut out the heart of a pale, ugly man, tied to a post. Her lips were covered in blood as she feasted on the organ. Changbin is so happy that the High Priestess has a smile on her lips instead now as she’s standing in the middle of his throne room. 

Her magic feels heavy, like mist slipping into his lungs and making it hard to breathe with every step she takes to get closer to Changbin. He feels like he should run from her, or kneel, but he’s just unable to move in the presence of such a powerful witch. However, her big, brown eyes are warm and kind, enchanting even, making Changbin feel safe like he’s in the arms of his mother. 

When she’s close enough, she grabs his hands, and Changbin feels himself relax even more. Why was he even worried in the first place? He doesn’t remember. Can’t even stop the grin from jerking at the corner of his lips when she smiles at him. 

“Oh, Changbin, I’ve been dying to meet you.”

* * *

The Priestess, or Jihyo apparently, stays for a few days.

Changbin feels like there’s a cloak of calm spread out over the capital like he’s living in a haze, watching everything through a rose-colored mist. Somehow even the problems in the streets seem to settle down, and he doesn’t get an audience with any unsatisfied citizen for an entire midweek. 

Minho shows off his creatures, looking happy and starstruck to be around his priestess. She looks amused by the monsters, tapping all of them on the shoulder with a loving smile. She even gets to meet Geom, Minho’s greatest creation still, and the dragon seems to love her, closing his eyes as she strokes his forehead.

Hyunjin keeps his distance, focusing on his charity work instead. He doesn’t have to say it, but Changbin remembers it all too well. When they went to the priestess’ temple, the altar boy told Hyunjin that he wasn’t allowed to pay his respects to her since deities can’t pray, a harsh reminder of how different he is from the rest of them. 

Said altar boy follows Changbin around like a shadow. He thinks he’s sneaky, that Changbin won’t spot that red hair of his. And when he does catch him, he’s just met with a glare, unflinching. Eventually, Changbin gets sick of it, because he can’t even do his daily tasks without the boy watching his every move.

“If you have something to say, then just say it.” Changbin has him cornered now in a hallway of one of the least busy wings of the palace. Here they won’t be disturbed.

The boy leans against the wall with his arms folded, one hip cocking out, pretending that the confrontation doesn’t bother him. But Changbin can see the slight sheen of a blush peeping through his sun-kissed skin. Then, the boy clicks his tongue before walking towards Changbin, his hand outstretched. 

“Might as well introduce myself properly,” the boy says when Changbin takes his hand to shake it, “My name is Haechan, first servant of the High Priestess.”

Changbin hums because aside from his name, the information isn’t new. So he tries to pull his hand back, but somehow, it feels weird. He looks down at his hand, pulling at it. His skin seems to stick to the other’s palm, stuck like they’re glued together. And then, when he pulls, his hand stretches like it’s melting, fingers stretching out and longer than his forearm, looking gummy like dough. 

He panics. It’s wrong, so wrong. He blinks his eyes a couple of times and then starts shaking his hand to get away from it somehow. His fingers only grow longer and goopier. He wants to scream but he can’t, all air knocked out of him as his heart jumps in his chest.

And then, with a snap of the altar boy’s fingers, it’s all back to normal again. Changbin pulls his hand back for real this time, flipping it around in front of his eyes, inspecting it. There’s no signs of anything being different about it, no traces of what he just saw. 

“Your mind is easy to trick.” Haechan brings his finger to his forehead, tapping it. He looks over his shoulder into the deserted hallway. Then, he adds. “Just remember that not everything is what it seems.”

His eyes are dark and he holds Changbin’s gaze for a moment. Then he turns, leaving him alone, finally.

Changbin doesn’t see the boy again.

* * *

“Easy to trick?” Hyunjin snorts as he watches his reflection in the mirror, pulling his hair into a ponytail and then wrapping a light blue string around the tie, knotting it into a pretty bow. “I think you’re quite sharp actually.”

Changbin sighs, kicking his legs where he sits on the end of the bed. He looks at Hyunjin from the corner of his eyes, watching him preening and grooming himself, never satisfied. Changbin is still bothered by his interaction from a few days ago with the young boy, can’t seem to shake his words. But he’s left town now, and so has the priestess, so that calm feeling that her magic brought is gone now.

Hyunjin can feel him worrying, so he finally turns, smiling crookedly with one dimple showing. “Wait, maybe you’re right.” He comes closer, hands outstretched until they find Changbin’s hair, running his fingers through it fondly. “I did trick you into loving me.”

Changbin smiles, allowing himself to relax his head in Hyunjin’s hands. “I don’t know about that, maybe I need you to trick me some more.”

Hyunjin huffs. “Idiot,” he whispers before leaning down and connecting their lips. 

It’s suddenly as if Hyunjin pours something overwhelmingly hot into his body, like making him drink boiling tea. His magic is impossible to keep out and floods into Changbin, stinging him. Changbin pulls away immediately, a bit at a loss for breath. “What–” 

“Sorry, I–” Hyunjin takes a step back. “I’ve been getting stronger recently. It’s because of work, I think there might be people subconsciously praying to me. They don’t know I’m a deity, but they fold their hands and say their gratitude, so–” Hyunjin rambles on.

Changbin swallows, finding his throat to be a bit sore. “It’s okay, Hyunjin.” Because it must be, right? Hyunjin might be overwhelmed right now, but he’s adaptable, and he just knows he will get his powers under control. Besides, he thinks Hyunjin deserves to be prayed to. 

“Is it?” Hyunjin asks carefully, pausing to chew on his lip. And then, “I kind of like the feeling. It makes me feel powerful and in control, even though I’m anything but.” 

“Then just let it happen,” Changbin says, leaning back on his palms on the bedding. He lifts a hand to point at him. “You need to get that under control, though, because I want to be able to kiss you without burning myself.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but there’s a relieved smile on his lips. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

* * *

Changbin swears that he didn’t forget about Seungmin. He was just busy and distracted by everything. But when he finally catches a break and manages to clear his schedule for the afternoon, he puts on a cloak, hides his face, and makes his way to the river, holding a basket filled with gifts. He has snacks, linen, a pillow embroidered with golden thread. Things someone would need for their new house. 

He has the address on the note in his pocket, but he already knows where to go. The family that hired Seungmin for their horses are acquaintances of him, a lord and a lady who recently moved to the capital from their village in the countryside. One that the Sinhaean army burned to the ground only months ago. 

The house really has a nice view of the river, only a few minutes removed. Changbin peeks over the hedge, finding the horses and the little shed next to the stables where Seungmin probably lives. He doesn’t see any signs of him, though, so he knocks on the front door.

Five minutes later, he’s running to the river, basket discarded somewhere on his way, only clutching the small bag of rice cakes in his hands.

He’s been told that Seungmin disappeared a couple of days ago.

The lady of the house had assumed he went back to work in the palace. She was only mildly concerned about the fact that Seungmin left all of his stuff behind. He even left a book on his bed, spread open on the page he last read, with obvious intention to pick it up again soon.

That was four days ago, and he’s nowhere to be found.

Finally on the riverbank, Changbin pulls the strings from the little bag, spilling rice cakes all around him. He picks some up, and tosses a handful in the water. He needs to know where Seungmin went, and if he’s read the signs right, Jeongin might know more. 

He watches the rice cakes float on the current, bobbing up and down, until they eventually soak through and sink. Changbin takes another handful, throwing it into the water with more strength than he needs to. He’s upset, worried that something bad might have happened to his friend. 

Getting impatient, he puts his hands around his mouth, and yells, “Jeongin!” No reply, no familiar face submerging from the river, nothing. He yells again, and again, and again.

Finally, he drops to his knees, feeling hopeless.

Maybe this is not a bad thing, he tells himself. If Jeongin is missing too, then they might have run off somewhere together? Maybe Seungmin stole one of the abandoned fisher boats and disappeared into the horizon with Jeongin, on a new adventure.

Yes. That makes sense. Changbin nods to himself, letting the thoughts calm him down. 

But if that makes sense, then why does it feel so wrong?

  
  
  
  



	2. Boiled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy friday!
> 
> thanks for everyone who stuck around despite the new warnings! i love yall!! 
> 
> no warnings for this chapter aside from a sex scene (the last one in this story, wow)

_“Where am I?”_

The question leaves Changbin’s lips before he can even look around himself. He’s in a room he’s never seen before. There’s no windows, only light from thousands of candles. There are people dancing in the middle of the room, but there’s no music playing.

“It’s a party,” Hyunjin appears next to him, shoving a glass in his hand. Oh, how long it’s been since Changbin has seen Hyunjin in his dreams. He wants to hold him close until he finally wakes up, but someone’s voice calls his attention. 

The dancing has stopped. People with no faces stand around the man in the middle of the room who has his glass raised high. Despite the man being long dead, his father still haunts his dreams. Even now, even at a party.

“To the king!” his father calls out, and it takes a moment before Changbin realizes that he’s referring to him, and not himself.

The man raises the drink to his mouth and throws it back, wiping his mouth to clean the dark, red substance off his lips.

“You should try it, Changbin,” Minho says, suddenly by his side. It’s been so long since he was so close to him, close enough to see the sweet smile lines next to his eyes as he grins at him, urging him to drink.

“Come on, Bin,” Jisung appears in front of him, “I already had two glasses. It’s delicious.”

Changbin looks down at his glass. The red liquid looks thick, and its warmth is radiating through the glass, warming his hands. When he brings it up to his nose to smell it, he smells copper. 

On the other end of the room, Changbin spots Felix. He’s staring at him, but looking right through him, his eyes blank. In his hands he holds a burlap sack, the end tied together with a leather string. There’s a round object in the sack, and it looks heavy. Something dark seeps through the fabric, painting Felix’ hands red. Changbin wants to call out to him, but Felix turns.

“Come on, love,” Hyunjin whispers in his ear, pressing a sweet kiss to his neck, “let’s drink it together.” 

_When Changbin finally swallows the rancid drink, he thinks of Seungmin._

“I swear to all gods that if I have to wake you up one more time while the city is burning, I’m taking the throne,” his sister’s voice cuts through the silence of his bedroom, her boot digging into his butt as she steps on him.

Changbin startles awake instantly, sitting up, covered in sweat and already panicking. His throat is dry but he asks, “The city is burning?!” 

“Not literally, you idiot.” She rolls her eyes. Then, as Changbin is still blinking through his sleepy haze, she points to Hyunjin. His lover is still asleep, lying on his stomach completely naked with no sheets, despite the cold. “Wake him up too. The people love him.”

Hyunjin is still half asleep when they finally leave the room, tracing behind them slowly with a thin robe wrapped around his body. Changbin, instead, is wearing his formal attire, even his crown. Cheonsa insisted on it, said he needs to look like a king for this. 

“They complain about not having enough firewood for the cold, since all the trees are rotting,” she explains as they exit the palace and follow the cobble to the gates. Changbin can already hear a rowdy crowd, people screaming. “So,” Cheonsa adds, “they’re breaking down the gates.”

Changbin stops in his place, terrified. “To attack us?”

“No,” Cheonsa says, but still she rests her hand on the hilt of her sword. “To use the wood. And to make a statement while doing it, I guess.”

Changbin swallows his worries and just picks up the pace to follow the sound. For a moment he wonders why they don’t have any guards with them if they’re going to be in front of a crowd, but then Changbin hears Hyunjin’s dragging his feet behind him and realizes. If things backfire, Hyunjin can handle it with his powers. Now he just wishes Hyunjin wasn’t here with them. 

It’s already cold enough for him to see his breath puff out as steam, sticking to his skin all damp and making his cheeks feel frosty. He turns the corner and is shocked to find more people in front of the gates than he expected. It’s a group of a couple hundred people, and they’ve already forced the gates open. That’s already an offense of its own, and yet they’re also chopping the gates down with axes, creating a big pile of wood behind them, ready to take home.

Changbin thinks it’s kind of out of character that Cheonsa let this happen, that she didn’t immediately resort to violence. But maybe she’s growing up as well, just like Changbin is. Perhaps she’s more adept at politics than he previously thought. 

“It’s the king!” someone yells when they finally come close enough to be spotted. Changbin has no time to make any formal greetings, because the next thing he knows there’s a rotten apple flying his way. He dodges it quickly and watches it roll on the cobblestones, in Hyunjin’s direction. Hyunjin just kicks at it, still half-asleep.

Changbin can see Cheonsa’s eyebrow twitch, so he knows his sister is already close to losing her patience. So Changbin raises his hands, showing the crowd that he comes with good intentions. “How can we help you lot?” he asks, voice raised over the bustle.

People elbow each other and stand on their toes to see him. The men in the front have their axes lowered. For now. There’s not much left of the gates, and Changbin eyes the pile of dark hardwood through the crowd, worried. A lady comes forward, cheeks red, and a baby in her arms. “We need more wood,” she yells.

“Yeah, it’s too cold and we can’t keep our houses warm!” another man yells.

“Can’t even cook without fire!” someone chimes in.

Changbin thinks. Maybe it’s time to break down some of their ships and contact some nearby cities to see if they have some healthy trees they can cut before it’s too late. It might be a bit expensive to move it all to the capital, and someone is going to have to keep track and make sure the wood is equally divided. But still, it’s doable. He can fix this. It’s not a war.

However, he doesn’t get to speak, because Hyunjin suddenly walks past him and into the angry crowd. Some seem to recognize him, stepping aside instantly. Others just eye him warily. Hyunjin reaches the pile of wood, stacked up so high that it almost looks like they’re getting ready for a bonfire. He grabs a piece, making some of the pile crumble and fall before his feet. In his hand, he flips the block of hardwood around, studying it. Then, he lights it on fire with his magic.

The crowd lets out a collective gasp. 

With his free hand in front of his mouth, Hyunjin clears his sleepy throat and then says, “This will burn for months as long as you don’t put it out. You won’t need any firewood to feed the flame. It’ll burn hotter than hell and keep you and your family safe until spring.”

A soft murmuring starts and Changbin hears hisses of the words ‘magic’ and ‘demon’. The sound is uneasy. But then, Hyunjin holds out the burning wood, urging someone to take it. “It won’t hurt you, not unless you want it to,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear.

A young girl steps forward, escaping the tight hold of her mother, eyes wide and curious. Hyunjin smiles sweetly as he hands her the flame. She takes it, jolting a bit as she holds the piece of wood an arm’s length away from her body. But when she realizes that it doesn’t hurt, she turns and waves it around, showing it off.

The energy of the crowd shifts instantly. The hostile whispers change to those of admiration, and once again Changbin spots people folding their hands, mouthing silent words. Hyunjin proceeds to set pieces of wood aflame, distributing them around the crowd until everyone is at peace, making their way home with enough heat to last them through the winter. 

Changbin is stunned to silence, honestly, standing to the side like he’s just part of the decor. Somewhere deep down he feels a bit weird about not being at the center of attention right now, but he’s also relieved that he doesn’t have to deal with this anymore. So instead, he tries to shift his feelings and just watches Hyunjin take charge. And he watches him with a proud feeling.

No one truly knows just how much Hyunjin means to him, or the other way around. No one knows but him.

* * *

That doesn’t mean that all of the country’s problems are solved, though. Changbin can’t continue to lean on Hyunjin’s powers to guide him through his rule. He doesn’t want to ask any of his councilmen for guidance since he’s afraid they’re going to finally see all the nasty things his father probably used to say to them about him. 

Changbin even goes as far as to ask his mother for her wisdom, but finds her to be too preoccupied with looking at the flowers in the palace garden, not really processing his words. This bothers and confuses him more than anything because he’s used to having his mother’s full attention. But he figures he shouldn’t demand that of her. She’s getting a bit older by the day and could use some time away from politics.

So he kicks in the door to his father’s old office, rusted lock popping open easily. Dust flies through the room and dances on the sparse beams of sunlight that shine through the blinds. It was almost too easy to get inside, but he has a lock that isn’t as easy to pop as the one on the door. From his back pocket, he retrieves the small book, the one that supposedly holds his family’s history, bound in calfskin. And a small lock keeping him from opening it.

He’s tried everything. Tried to cut the skin open with his sword, break the lock with a hammer, picking it with a wire, and had everyone with even a grain of magic in them try to open it. He tried everything except for the most obvious option. If there’s a lock, there must be a key. He throws the book onto his father’s old desk, and rolls up his sleeves, hoping to find the key somewhere in this room. 

There’s so much mess in here. His father posed as an organized person, but it’s quickly becoming obvious that he did not extend that energy into his office. The boxes with paperwork stacking up, books messily strewn into a cabinet, even shoes kicked under the desk. And yet Changbin gets to work.

Hours pass, and the sun changes angle, casting its light higher up the walls as it quickly dips on the horizon. Changbin doesn’t even notice it. He’s too obsessed with finding what he’s looking for. But it’s when he’s flipping through a book, trying to find a hidden compartment, that there’s a knock on the half-open door. 

“I’m getting the feeling that you’re not trying to tidy up,” Chan says as he sticks his head into the room.

Changbin sighs, dropping the empty book on top of a pile he already went through. Then, he cocks his chin towards the little book he has on the desk, the main reason for his current struggle. “The book I showed you before. I really want the key.”

Chan picks it up, flipping it around in his hand. Then, he tries to worm his fingers under the cover, to wrench it open. Just like last time, it doesn’t work, so he drops it again, running his fingers through his curls. “You want some help?” he offers.

Changbin huffs, but then figures it wouldn’t hurt. “Sure.” 

Chan goes to work wherever Changbin tells him to, a frown on his face as he flips through some documents. Eventually, though, he breaks the silence, but not in a way Changbin was expecting. “Have you found Seungmin yet?” Chan asks, looking at him over the edge of a piece of paper.

Changbin shoves the lid onto the box he was searching through and groans. “No. I’ve had people look around to see if anyone might be missing a boat or something, but still, nothing.” Chan hums in response, a worried look on his face. Then, Changbin adds, “I was kinda distracted by the Priestess visiting. Hate myself for not seeing him off.”

Chan laughs softly. “I think we were all a bit distracted by that. She has that effect on people.”

“You two go way back, right?” Changbin scratches at the corner of the box that’s in his lap, trying not to show how curious he is.

“She saved my life,” Chan sits back in the desk chair, staring at the ceiling, “There wasn’t much left of me after my father banished me. But she patched me back up, made me whole again. I owe her a lot.”

Changbin looks up at that. “Your father hurt you?” 

A small smile tugs at Chan’s lips as he moves to unbutton his shirt. It reveals pale skin, and then, an ugly and wild scar on the left side of Chan’s chest, pink and ribboned on the edges, the size of a fist. It’s pulled taut and stretches painfully when Chan inhales. 

Changbin almost whimpers at the sight. He can’t imagine any parent doing that to their child, whatever _that_ even entails. “Fuck, Chan,” is all he can say, and then, “almost looks like he ripped out your heart.”

Chan laughs with his whole chest at that, an incredulous smile on his face. “You’re close, you almost guessed what he did to me. But, no, it’s way more painful than that.”

Changbin just stays silent, looking at the scar, intrigued.

“He didn’t take my heart.” Chan lays his hand on the scar, covering it completely. “He gave me one.”

* * *

Changbin’s knees almost give up on him when he finds them in the courtyard, Hyunjin and Jisung playing catch with a stick while Geom bounces in between them, trying to steal it. Changbin is tired, so tired, and the disappointment of not finding the key to the book in his father’s office just makes him feel even more disappointed and pessimistic. So seeing the clumsy dragon making the ground shake with his heavy body as his favorite people on the planet laugh heartily, really does him some good.

“Changbin, catch!” Jisung finally yells when he spots him, throwing the stick his way.

Changbin holds out his hands, but he never gets the chance to catch it, because Geom is tired of waiting and shoots it right out of the air with a quick and short flame, exhaled from his nostrils. It lights up the sky for a moment, but when the flame dies, it’s dark again, the sun having already set. The stick falls onto the cobblestone, where it turns into ash. 

Geom sniffs the pile of ash, confused, and then lets out a sad whine. Changbin takes a step forward, reaching out and patting his snout reassuringly. “There, there, Geomie.” The dragon nudges Changbin softly with the horn on the front of his face, but it still almost makes him tip over. The big creature is still so clumsy with his size and strength.

“He loves you a lot,” Hyunjin says as he appears next to him, leaning on Changbin’s shoulder.

“He’s got bad taste, just like his daddy,” Jisung jokes, buttoning up his jacket to shield himself from the cold since he doesn’t have a fire deity pressed against his body like Changbin has.

“I’m not Geom’s father,” Hyunjin argues, faux annoyance in his voice. But then a soft smile appears on his lips as he joins Changbin in petting the dragon. There’s so much love in his eyes that Changbin can’t help but think he silently agrees. 

“Sung, you good? You look tired,” Changbin asks when Jisung makes an attempt to walk back into the palace while rubbing at his eyes.

Jisung turns, dark shadows on his face, and laughs sheepishly. “Worry about yourself, big guy.” It doesn’t quite help that he stops to yawn. Then, he adds, “Okay alright, I’m beat. Gonna try to sleep and you two should do the same.”

“Sure, sure, goodnight, dickhead.” Changbin waves at him, dismissing him.

“Goodnight, asshole,” Jisung calls, a bit too loud, and then he not so subtly blows some kisses at Hyunjin. Hyunjin sends a flame his way, which Jisung dodges just in time. But it’s all good. Changbin is happy they get along so well.

“Bathe with me,” Changbin asks, resting his head against Hyunjin’s shoulder when Jisung finally disappears into the palace. The disappointment of the day weighs down on his body, but he doesn’t want to sleep just yet. He needs to unwind, to feel clean after hours of sifting through dusty things.

Of course, Hyunjin agrees, some rush in his step as he leads the way to the baths in the basement. His lover never turns down the offer to spend some time in his favorite place in the palace. He was the one who made them, after all, using his powers to pull a hot spring to the surface, providing the royal baths with a continuous supply of hot and clean water, much like back on the island. A luxury he had gotten used to, a luxury worthy of a deity. 

Luckily, all that they’re met with when they open the heavy doors is just steam, and nothing more. Usually, the baths are empty around this time, but still, Changbin counts it as a blessing when he locks the doors behind him, just to make sure it will stay that way. 

“You wanna tell me what’s put that frown on your face?” Hyunjin pulls his shirt over his head and walks towards him, bare feet sticking to the damp floor. He flicks at Changbin’s forehead, only worsening his frown.

Changbin tries to rub at it, but Hyunjin beats him to it, soothing the pain with his magic. “Was looking for the key to open that damn book,” Changbin answers as he closes his eyes, allowing the heat of the room and Hyunjin’s hand to seep into his body. 

“I’m guessing you didn’t find it.” Hyunjin pulls away and undresses further.

Changbin watches him through the steam. Seeing Hyunjin like this never gets old. He’s frozen on the spot, unable to do anything as he just looks at his lover’s naked body as he lowers himself into the bath, not one bit bothered by the heat. Steam sticks to his skin, shimmering in the candlelight like glitter. He’s absolutely beautiful.

“Are you just gonna keep watching me or are you gonna join?” Hyunjin raises an eyebrow at him as he asks the question he’s asked many times before.

“Of course I’ll join,” Changbin takes off his shirt and drops his pants, “I can watch you even better from up close.” 

Even the tiles are hot under his feet, but it doesn’t prepare him for the water, almost sucking the air out of his chest as he sinks down into it. There’s pinpricks on his skin all over, and it feels like his extremities are about to explode from the pressure, skin burning red and angry. And yet, it relaxes him like nothing else. This is good, this is familiar. This is safe.

When he finally gets used to the temperature, he kicks at Hyunjin’s leg where he’s sitting across from him. “What did you do today?”

“Just stuff,” Hyunjin lays his arms on the edge of the bath, tapping his fingers on the tiles, “Did some house visits to light people’s fireplaces. Oh, and I spent a couple of hours healing in the hospital.” Hyunjin takes a deep breath, leaning his head back to stare at the low ceiling. “I’m getting stronger by the day.”

Changbin watches him through fuzzy eyes, the heat already getting to him. Hyunjin’s chest expands slowly, breathing the steamy air so easily, the dragon pendant dangling from his necklace. Even from here, Changbin can feel his power, like electricity, conducted by the water they’re bathing in. 

“I love you, you know that?” Changbin’s voice echoes through the room, and Hyunjin snaps his head back up at that. “So much,” Changbin adds.

Hyunjin smiles, endeared, his eyebrows raised a bit, like he’s asking where that suddenly came from. So, Changbin explains, “You’re doing so much for me.”

“Oh stop,” Hyunjin huffs, waving his hand at him, splashing some water drops onto his face, “it’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not.” Changbin slides over the stone seat in the bath, sliding all the way until he’s sitting by Hyunjin’s side, shoulders pressing together. “I couldn’t do this without you. The country wouldn’t even exist anymore if it weren’t for your help. I’m sorry I ever excluded you.”

Hyunjin looks at him for a moment, hesitant. Then Changbin watches his eyes slowly fill up with hot tears, threatening to overflow. “No, don’t you dare!” Changbin brings up his hands to cover Hyunjin’s eyes, wet skin sticking to even wetter lashes. “Suck ‘em back in!”

His lover laughs against his hands and then sniffs loudly, trying to do as Changbin says. He brings his hand to his face, slowly wrapping his fingers around Changbin’s wrist to pull him away. Hyunjin presses a kiss against the palm of his hand, tickling Changbin with the softness of his lips. “Thank you,” Hyunjin lays his cheek in his hand, resting his head, “I needed to hear that.”

“What else do you need to hear? I’ll tell you, I’ll say it all,” Changbin jokes, rubbing his thumb over Hyunjin’s cheekbone, soothing.

Hyunjin smiles, but this time it isn’t kind– it’s cheeky, like he’s up to something. Water sloshes around when Hyunjin moves, spilling over the edge and evaporating on the tiles as Hyunjin climbs into Changbin’s lap. Changbin stills, a bit startled. Hyunjin runs his wet fingers through Changbin’s hair, combing it, until his fingers hook on tight and pull his head back, looking deep into his eyes.

“I need to hear you moan.”

Changbin feels the steam stick to his skin, making the hairs in his neck stand up like static. He runs his hands over Hyunjin’s thighs under the water, one on each side of his, feeling the way his muscles protrude his otherwise soft skin when he sits like this. There’s an urgency in Hyunjin’s eyes, there always is with him. So Changbin lets his hands wander further, until both of them catch a handful of Hyunjin’s behind, massaging it and then spreading it with his nails digging in.

Hyunjin sighs, leaning closer while shifting his hips. Changbin smiles when he feels Hyunjin slide against him, already as hard as he is. “How do you want it?” Changbin asks, letting his hands roam even more, one of them slipping away and pressing against the back of Hyunjin’s sac, playfully. He already knows the answer.

“Like this,” Hyunjin says, lifting himself up and reaching under him, giving Changbin a few, rushed strokes until he grinds down on him, letting him slip against his hole. The hot water is making Changbin feel more sensitive, so he hisses as his flushed tip slides against where he wants to be most right now.

“We need–” Changbin tries to organize his brain so his words don’t come out like a mess, “we need bath oil or something–”

“Changbin.” Hyunjin’s voice is blunt, calling for his attention. Changbin just watches him, looking at him with anticipation. Hyunjin’s eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and his fingers in Changbin’s hair tighten, making it impossible to look away. Then, Hyunjin smiles, lopsided and confident, cocky even.

“Did you forget that you’re fucking a god?” is all that he says before Changbin’s cock slips inside of him, body giving way so easily.

Changbin shouts in surprise, overwhelmed by the heat. It almost burns. But then there’s the comforting sensation of Hyunjin’s magic, soothing him. Changbin digs his nails into Hyunjin’s hips, holding him still as he tries to peer through the water to get a good look at where they’re connected. 

He can’t help it, he has to touch him, so he strokes at Hyunjin’s stomach, tracing the soft skin. The water is hot, but it’s the same temperature as Hyunjin’s body, so it’s like he’s everywhere, all around him. He doesn’t know where the water ends and Hyunjin starts, only has his hands to show him. Changbin wraps a hand around Hyunjin’s cock, and immediately his lover ditches the confident act he was putting on, moaning softly and dropping his forehead on Changbin’s shoulder. 

“You feel so good,” Changbin whispers into his neck before pressing a kiss to the wet skin, making Hyunjin shiver. “Come on,” Changbin tries to move his hips, urging Hyunjin to work with him, “let me fuck you.”

Hyunjin moans at the words, but he allows Changbin to slip his hands under him, and lift him up by his hips. Changbin can easily pick up his lover at any time, but the water makes him lighter. It makes it easier for him to lift him up, and then pull him back down on his cock, sinking in as deep as he can. And again, and again.

The water splashes around in tandem with Hyunjin’s moans, high and stretched, blending in together until it sounds like waves crashing. And it’s like the waves are on fire, burning Changbin’s skin whenever they hit him, leaving it red. Or maybe it’s just Hyunjin’s touch, hands digging into his shoulders as he tries to have their movements coincide, bouncing on his lap like he means it. 

“Like that–just like that,” he whines in Changbin’s ear, urgent, before biting his earlobe, something to keep his mouth busy as Changbin only fucks him harder. 

The temperature is rising, but so is Changbin’s desperation to make his lover come. He digs the heels of his feet into the tiled floor of the bath and thrusts up even more, harder and stronger, anything to make Hyunjin feel good. It feels like his skin is about to burst from how hot the water is getting, but he ignores the pressure, only focuses on the man who’s quickly falling apart on top of him. 

“Yes, yes, yes–” Hyunjin mumbles the words, letting them melt into each other as he starts working himself with his hand, each and every one of his strokes in unison with Changbin’s hips slamming against him underwater.

Changbin can feel it when Hyunjin finally comes, not only in the way he spasms around him, bringing him closer to the edge, but also with the way the hot water seems to spark against his skin, stinging him. He notices bubbles drifting up all around him, but he’s too focused on Hyunjin’s face, on his pretty lips falling open in a long and deep moan, and his eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy.

He follows after almost instantly, fucking his pleasure straight into Hyunjin, who’s still in the middle of it, whining sweetly with each of Changbin’s stammering thrusts. Changbin feels dizzy from it, but somehow he can’t stop, chasing that feeling of relief as everything else around him feels painful. It burns, it burns so bad, but all he wants is that sweet, sweet comfort of Hyunjin’s magic.

Changbin’s eyesight goes double, looking at not one, but two Hyunjin’s on top of him, moaning his name. Then, the edges go fuzzy, and it feels like there’s a hot blanket being pulled over his head, pulling him down until his vision goes dark.

Next thing he feels is his back hitting the tiled floor, his head bumping it painfully. He’s no longer in the water. He blinks his eyes open, finding a worried and naked Hyunjin hovering over him, his hands shaking his shoulders. “Wh–what happened,” he asks, voice cracking.

“I almost fucking boiled you!” Hyunjin’s voice echoes through the room, concern ringing through it.

Changbin can’t help it. He snorts and rolls onto his side, clutching his stomach as he laughs. “Like an egg? You cooked me like a hard-boiled egg?”

Hyunjin punches his back, softly. “It’s not funny!” he argues, but Changbin can already hear the self-blame make place for amusement. “Do you have any brain damage? Did I cook your brain?” Hyunjin asks, planting his naked body over Changbin’s, pulling at his face to check on him. 

“Yeah, I think you did,” Changbin says, leaning up a bit despite the dizziness to press a quick kiss to Hyunjin’s lips, “my head is so messed up that you look even prettier than you normally do.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at that, but Changbin knows he’s won. He doesn’t want to end the night in worry, or anything negative. He just wants to be with his lover without any care in the world, just once. 

But still, he wonders about what happened as they lay in bed, Hyunjin asleep next to him. Hyunjin’s eyebrows are in a deep frown, even as he sleeps, and his body twitches every minute. His lover has been having a lot of nightmares lately, just like him. He wonders about that too.

Hyunjin seems to become stronger every day, powers fueled by the prayers and admiration of the citizens in the capital. But Changbin is hesitant if he can control that amount of power in such a short time. Hyunjin has never been good at it, especially not when his emotions get in the way. Him ripping the earth open and having hot lava pour out was evidence of that. And tonight was probably the same thing, just under different circumstances.

Changbin is just happy he didn’t _actually_ get boiled alive.

He decides to forget about it, for now, and to just close his eyes and finally sleep.

But he doesn’t get the chance, because there’s a light knock on the door. 

He sits up in bed and waits for the guard to tell him who has come to his bedroom. Then, he remembers that none of these new guards can speak, so he climbs out of bed. On his toes, careful not to wake his lover, or alert the visitor of his presence, he sneaks up to the door. With a quick move of his hand, he slides the peeping window open.

Chan peers through it on the other side, eyes dark and excited.

“Changbin,” he whispers, “I think I know where we can find the key.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chan says he knows a place and then he takes you... where?
> 
> thank you for reading and please leave a comment if you enjoyed! see you next Friday!


	3. Thicker Than Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy friday! I almost forgot to update!! woops!
> 
> enjoy this chapter about family...

“Here, come on,” Chan holds out his hand for Changbin, which he gladly takes to let himself be pulled up and over the brick wall. The rocks feel so cold, even though he barely touches them. Everything just feels so cold nowadays.

They make their way through the private but small forest that lies behind the palace, not a word shared between them. Changbin can see it here too, see how the trees are ready to fall over, rotten to the core. He can smell it too, that familiar and awful smell of rot. He thinks that not even Hyunjin could make these woods burn. They’re beyond repair.

“That’s it, right?” Chan comes to a stop.

In the distance, Changbin can see two torches shining brightly in the dark night, lighting up the door that leads to the tombs where all of his family members that have passed were laid to rest. 

Unfortunately, it’s not just torches on each side, there’s also two guards. One of them of which Changbin can’t find the face of, body overgrown with fleshy lumps, hanging heavy everywhere. The other seems to have already spotted them, antennas moving around like crazy and bug-like eyes focused on them.

“You’re the king, you’re allowed inside,” Chan tries to reassure him.

“That doesn’t mean that I like seeing them.” Changbin chews on his bottom lip as they approach.

“Wanna see something crazy?” Chan asks, sticking out his arms as he gets closer to the guards. He’s clearly not planning on waiting for Changbin’s answer, because he puts his hand on the lumpy guard’s shoulder, or, what looks like a shoulder. Then, Chan turns towards Changbin, eyebrows raised as if he’s doing something.

“What?” Changbin asks, uneasy.

“My powers don’t work on them,” Chan says, putting his hand on the other guard, who doesn’t even respond, submissive and reserved in the presence of the king. “They’re already dead. I can’t do anything to them,” Chan explains, clicking his tongue, and then, “I could still snap their necks, though, do you want me to?”

“Fuck no, weirdo,” Changbin notices how his words directed to Chan don’t hold the same venom as they used to, despite the meaning of what he said. Perhaps he’s really warming up to the man. “Come on,” is all he says, putting his hands on the heavy door and pushing it open. The guards don’t even react as they step inside the tombs.

Chan remembers to grab the torches, handing Changbin one and leading the way down the stairs. The air is damp and musty, a combination of dirt and dust. 

“I’ve never seen anyone as uncomfortable with death as you,” Chan breaks the silence, “that must be why you’re so uncomfortable with me. You smell it on me.” 

Changbin notices how tense Chan’s shoulders are as he walks in front of him. He speaks jokingly, but Changbin has a hunch that there’s more to it. That Chan might actually be a little hurt by his reluctance to open up to him. 

“I think you’re right,” is what he finally decides on, not wanting to lie anymore.

“Perhaps,” Chan stops in his tracks, turning around to face him, the flame of the torch casting eerie shadows on his face, “in another reality we could’ve been friends.”

Changbin’s stomach drops. Is that how Chan feels? That Changbin has completely written him off? He might be a little uncomfortable with him, and not used to the way he acts and jokes about things, but Chan is still Hyunjin and Minho’s friend. Chan is Felix’ best friend. That makes him a friend. That makes him family.

Without any more hesitation, he holds out his hand in between them. “Why not in this reality?” he asks, eyebrow raised, challenging him. 

Chan looks at his hand for a moment, and it’s like a million emotions pass through his expressions. But then, he’s finally neutral, composed. He takes Changbin’s hand and shakes it, his grip firm and warm. It doesn’t feel as wrong as Changbin expected it to be. 

“Alright,” Chan’s voice is quiet, “why not, indeed.” 

He pulls away his hand and so does Changbin, wiping it on his pants, feeling a bit sweaty. Chan clears his throat and Changbin looks away, studying their surroundings.

It’s been over ten years since he’s been in the tombs. Last time, it was to visit and pay tribute to his grandfather’s grave. He remembers how dark and claustrophobic itt felt and nothing about that has changed. Hyunjin would really hate this place.

They finish their descent down the stairs and enter the long hallway, littered with doors and scriptures telling who is resting behind those doors. Changbin holds up his torch to read the names, trying to find the one of his father. He finds it at the end of the hallway, the letters instilling a certain sense of dread in his stomach. Changbin willfully ignores the empty rooms beside his father’s, the ones which don’t have a name yet.

Chan was right. He really doesn’t even want to think about death.

His friend follows him into the room as he pushes the door open. When they place their torches in the holders next to the door, the room is illuminated, showing all the treasures that lie scattered around his father’s limestone sarcophagus. 

Their family, the lords and ladies from all over the country, even the palace’s servants left many gifts in the tomb. From books that his father loved, to jewelry, and even fruits that are now shriveled up into prunes. But amongst all the treasures, not one of them is from Changbin. He tells himself it’s because he’s been too busy to visit, but in reality, he’s been dreading it. Seeing this makes everything too real.

“Come on,” Chan notices his discomfort and nudges his shoulder, “let’s search.”

The sun is probably moments away from rising when Changbin realizes they’re not going to find anything. They’ve turned the whole place inside out, dust sticking to their skin, and foreheads wrinkled from frowning too much. Changbin feels like he should give up already, and maybe bring the book here, lay it next to his father’s grave, and just forget about it forever. 

It’s when he’s entertaining that thought that he hears the sound of stone moving against stone.

Chan is moving the lid off the sarcophagus like it’s nothing. 

“What the–” Changbin grabs his arm, trying to stop him.

“It’s the only place we haven’t looked,” Chan continues to slide the lid, “he might have it on a necklace or in his pockets.”

Chan has a point, and the possibility that he’s right is very, very high. But Changbin doesn’t want to see whatever’s left of his father’s body. The thought alone makes him want to throw up and just run away. So he covers his nose and turns his back to Chan, walking away until he’s facing the corner, eyes shut. “Do it quickly.”

He hears the dull thud of the lid dropping to the side, and then some shuffling of Chan probably halfway climbing into the thing. There’s the sound of clothes moving and jewelry tinkling. Changbin squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, counting down from one hundred to zero to distract himself. There’s silence for a moment, and then he hears sniffing. A lot of it. Chan finally speaks.

“Uhm– Changbin? This is bad.”

* * *

“You still look like shit,” Changbin leans back in his chair as Jisung enters his office, studying his friend’s face. He has dark circles under his eyes and his hair is knotted. The pretty blue that he had put into his hair at the end of summer with some magic potion has now faded to something muddier.

“You’re not looking so hot either,” Jisung retorts, sitting down in the chair across the desk. He winces as he sits, and rubs at his neck, twisting his head quickly to crack the joints. 

“Rough night,” Changbin explains. It’s only been hours since he left the tombs and obviously he hasn’t had a second of sleep since then. “Can you lock the door?”

Jisung snaps his fingers and the lock clicks into place behind him, too lazy to stand. Changbin envies him for a moment, but then asks, “How’s Minho?”

Jisung huffs. “You tell me. I’ve been considering staying at my mom’s.”

Well, that clears that up.

“I visited my father’s grave.” Changbin grabs a crumpled up piece of paper from his desk and starts tearing the edges off. Something to keep his hands busy.

Jisung only raises his eyebrows.

“Chan was there with me,” Changbin explains, “We were looking to find the key to my book.”

“Did you find it?” Jisung leans forward, putting his hands down on the desk.

“Oh,” Changbin laughs, but there’s no joy to it, “we found something, alright.” He rips a big tear in the paper, tearing it in half. “Chan searched my father’s body. He said it smelled like carcaessnip.”

Jisung holds his hands up in front of him in question, urging Changbin to elaborate.

“It’s a poisonous plant.” Changbin cocks his chin at the pile of books he has on his desk, all of them telling him the same thing about the weed. “When boiled at the right temperature and infused as a tea, it can kill within minutes. Chan said he smelled enough of it that it would’ve even killed a dragon.”

Jisung leans back in his chair, letting his body slump as he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, letting out a long groan. “You’re fucking joking.”

“I wish I was.” Changbin is building a pile now of his little paper shreds, unable to look up and face Jisung properly.

“So, either your dad had a mortal enemy,” Jisung starts counting on his fingers to emphasize whatever he’s summing up, “or worse, the whole family has an enemy and you need to start watching your back.” He adds another finger, shrugging before saying, “Or maybe your mom finally had enough of the bastard.”

Changbin can’t help but laugh at that, although he feels awful.

“Or–” Jisung points at him, “you’re hiding something from me and you’re making yourself seem innocent by telling me all of this.”

Changbin holds Jisung’s eyes for the longest moment, his friend’s face dark and serious. But then, they both burst out into laughter at the silly idea. Changbin just can’t stop laughing after that, too tired to think straight and just too miserable and overwhelmed by emotions. A good laugh is a welcome one, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Nah, you don’t have it in you,” Jisung says finally, waving a dismissive hand at him.

“I really don’t.” Changbin wipes a tear from his eye, chest shaking like he has the hiccups.

Then, serious again, Jisung asks, “So? What now?”

Changbin clears his throat and takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself again. “This stays between us, and we keep our eyes open. I think I will figure it out when I open that fucking book.”

“That fucking book,” Jisung echoes, agreeing.

Changbin is about to drop it, and pry a little more about Jisung and Minho, but he’s interrupted by a loud knock on the door, and then someone pulling at the locked handle.

“Open up, it’s urgent,” Cheonsa continues to knock. 

Jisung, always a bit intimidated by Changbin’s sister, uses his magic to unlock the door instantly. 

Cheonsa comes barging in, Felix trailing behind him with the most excited look on his face, cheeks flushed.

“Oh, great,” Cheonsa grabs Jisung’s shoulder, tightly, “you can be our witness.”

“Please,” Felix adds with a polite smile.

Changbin stands, confused. “Witness for what?”

His sister rolls her eyes, impatient that he’s not catching on. Then she gestures between Felix and herself. “You’re the king, so you’re allowed to do it.” 

“Do what?” Changbin asks, Jisung’s eyes already widening in realization across the desk.

“Marry us.” 

* * *

“Hello, _brother.”_

Felix says the last word with intent as he walks towards Changbin, carrying two glasses of wine and hips swaying to the music that the band is playing. The grin on his face is so wide that Changbin thinks it might be permanent.

“Yes, you’re my brother now,” Changbin takes a glass and raises it, “and a prince.”

Felix’ smile drops and his eyes widen.

Changbin laughs at the sight. “You hadn’t realized that yet? You’re royalty now.”

Felix instantly swallows half of his wine. Then, he turns to lean against the wall next to Changbin, watching the bustle in front of them.

Cheonsa insisted on not wanting a formal wedding, but Felix wanted a big party, so they compromised with this. Just a gathering of family, friends, and staff in the palace’s dining hall. Good food, music, lots of wine and dancing, and no pretense and ball gowns. Just the way his sister likes it. 

They watch the room in silence for a while. Felix is such a calming presence to him, that Changbin isn’t worried that he has to say something to fill the quiet. He realizes that he’s happy to consider him family now, and even happier that Felix feels the same way.

But still, there’s something he’s been wondering about, something he’s been too afraid to ask. It felt inappropriate, but now that they’re family, maybe–

“Felix, what are you?” the words leave his mouth before he can stop it.

“Well, a prince, apparently,” Felix jokes, taking another sip from his glass. But then, he adds, “I guess I owe you some explanation.” 

Changbin wants to tell him that he doesn’t owe him anything, but his curiosity takes over, so he just nods as he swirls the wine in his glass.

“My father was human, and my mother was a fairy of the forest next to his village.” The lights dance in Felix’ eyes as he watches the people dance in the middle of the room, a small smile on his lips.

Changbin tries to process what he just learned. He’s heard about fairies, has actually read quite a lot about them in a book back on the island. It all adds up; Felix’ healing powers, the way nature seems to favor him, and the welcoming glow he carries around him. Changbin wonders if Felix has wings, but instead, he asks, “Your parents, did they fall in love?” 

Felix sucks a gasp of air in between his teeth, cocking his head to the side. “Not really.” He takes another sip of wine, a big one. “Let’s just say that conceiving me was– it was not a mutual decision.”

“Oh,” Changbin says softly, feeling bad for even asking.

“Once I was born, my father took me from my mother and set the forest on fire. I don’t think anyone from my family survived.” Felix speaks like it’s nothing, like it’s just a light story he has told many times before. “The villagers wanted me for my healing powers, I think. Needless to say, I never truly fit in.” Then, he adds, “For more reasons than one.”

Changbin doesn’t dare to ask what that means. His wine tastes bitter when he takes another swig from it. He’s startled when Felix puts his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Don’t be sad,” Felix says, and Changbin is speechless, baffled by the fact that in this moment, that’s what worries his brother in law. 

“I’m sorry,” is all that Changbin can say as he puts his hand over Felix’. Then, he hears a loud and familiar laugh from across the room. He spots Chan and Minho with their arms hooked through each other, downing a glass of wine each, the drink streaming down their cheeks, Jisung hollering next to them. “What about Chan?” Changbin asks.

“Passed through the village one day. I fed him and I told him my story.” Felix hesitates for a moment, a shaky breath leaving his chest. “The next morning, every person who ever hurt me, was dead.” 

Changbin doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing.

“Chan was the first person I ever considered family,” Felix says, and then he moves to pull at Changbin’s ear, playfully, “So you better be nice to him!” 

He’s still rubbing at his painful ear as he watches Felix go, joining Cheonsa to slip his arm around her waist as she chats to some lords. It’s weird to see his sister like that, but she looks happy and relaxed. For once.

From the corner of his eye, Changbin spots Hangyeol entering the room, his arm in a sling and one eye swollen and closed. He hasn’t seen his childhood friend in weeks, so whatever the hell has he been up to? 

As if summoned, Hangyeol’s older sister, Jiwoo, appears next to him. “Congrats, Bin,” she says with a hiccup, clearly drunk.

“Thanks.” Changbin takes the drink out of her hand and exchanges it with his empty glass, surprised that she even lets him. “What’s up with your brother?” he asks, taking a sip from what turns out to be some very heavy liquor.

“You tell me,” she leans on his shoulder, watching Hangyeol move through the room, “He comes home in the middle of the night every day, often beat up. Oh, and I found a stash of money under his bed.”

“Den fights?” Changbin asks. It can’t be true, though, because Hangyeol would never stoop that low. His friend was so against needless violence, and he saw fighting as an art, not a way to make money.

“The war changed him,” Jiwoo says as if she can read his mind. “He’s not used to killing people like I am,” she adds.

That’s one thing Changbin is sure of. Jiwoo has been by Cheonsa’s side forever, as a best friend, and on the battlefield. He brings her some water and makes sure that she sits down, hoping she will stay out of trouble. Changbin spots Hangyeol talking to Chan from across the room, sharing a bottle of dark liquor. Well, at least those two finally seem to be getting along.

Changbin finds his mom sipping on a warm glass of milk in the other corner of the room, surrounded by guards. He waves them away, annoyed by their presence. It’s not even necessary for there to be so many of Minho’s monsters in the room. It’s a custom to not bring any weapons to a party, so Changbin thinks them being there is just a waste. Besides, seeing the weird creatures just ruins his mood.

“Congratulations, mom,” he says, flopping down on a pillow next to her.

She turns to him, smiling slowly. Her hand is warm from holding the glass as she lays it on Changbin’s cheek, squeezing it affectionately. “I’m so happy you’re married now.”

He frowns, confused. “Mom, I’m not. It’s Cheonsa who got married.”

“Oh! You’re right!” his mother’s voice is light as she speaks. “Forgive me, please, I’ve been a bit forgetful these days.” 

Changbin eyes her as she returns to drinking her milk, watching the people on the dancefloor with a dazed smile on her face. He thinks that’s not a normal thing to forget, to get confused about. Besides, he can’t help but feel a little hurt. Is she living that much in her own little world? Or is she just not interested? That’s just so unlike her. 

A familiar heat sinks into the pillow next to him, calming him down instantly. “You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost,” Hyunjin asks quietly, rubbing Changbin’s thigh to comfort him. Everyone is too drunk to think anything of it, anyway.

“I think mom is–” Changbin sighs, “I think she’s tired.”

Hyunjin looks over his head at his mother, and then slaps Changbin’s leg before quickly getting up. He holds out his hand for Changbin’s mother to take. “Come on, let’s retire for the night.”

Maybe it’s because his mother adores Hyunjin so much, or maybe she really is just that tired, because she lets herself be pulled up and out of her seat, allowing Hyunjin to guide her out of the dining room. Hyunjin looks over his shoulder and winks at Changbin, a promise to return later, before the guards close the heavy doors behind him. 

Changbin leans back, letting his head rest against the wall, closing his eyes and just enjoying the moment, forgetting about all of his worries. He listens to all the sounds of the room, and they’re pleasing. 

He hears loud stories met with laughter. 

The sound of shoes tapping against the marble floor from dancing, the string instruments playing an uplifting tune. 

Sounds of joy, sounds of celebration, sounds of happiness.

The sound of a sword being pulled out of its sheath followed by a scream of pain and terror. 

Changbin’s eyes fly open to find the source of the sound. Jiwoo is right where he left her, in a chair, glass of water now dropped to the floor. Point of a sword sticking out through her stomach, run through her from the back, cutting through her so easily. The guard with a rodent-like face pulls its sword out and she falls forward, bleeding out so quickly on the floor. 

It’s like there’s an instant shift in the room, like someone snapped their fingers. 

There’s about two dozen guards in the room, and they all have their swords out, ready to kill whoever they lay their eyes on. Changbin gets up to go to Jiwoo, but he’s pulled to the floor, back hitting it hard. 

It’s Hangyeol, leaning over him and protecting him. “Stay down. You’re the king,” he hisses, pulling a knife from his pocket. He pushes him, pointing, until Changbin understands that he wants him to hide under the table.

Shocked, and mind too pinned on the fact that Hangyeol didn’t even consider to save his sister, Changbin does what he’s told and gets under the table. Hangyeol must’ve seen something that he didn’t. Must’ve seen that she was beyond saving. 

He’s shaking, not even able to figure out what’s happening. The sound in the room is so loud, echoing off the walls. He hides behind the tablecloth, but it doesn’t help, because a lord gets cut down and falls to the floor, dead and blank eyes staring at him.

There’s no air in his lungs, nothing to keep him from going crazy. His chest hitches but he can’t keep up with reality, his heart fluttering like a fish on dry land. He sees two octopus-like limbs slither under the table, and then flip it, exposing him. It’s a monster. He can see it clearly now. They were never guards, just monsters.

Changbin grabs a piece of a broken bottle off the floor, holding it out in front of him with shaking hands. But once again, like some kind of sick tradition, Chan is there. His friend’s hand rips through the monster’s chest, pulling out whatever was left of its heart. Curdled blood splashes against Changbin’s face, the smell foul.

Chan pulls him up, his face paler than usual. Changbin has never seen Chan look this terrified.

Minho.

Changbin needs to find Minho.

These are his creatures. He can just undo his spell on them, whatever spell gave them life, and they will all die. 

But his eyes find Minho just in time to see one of his own creations jam a short knife into the witch’ chest. Minho collapses, his eyes rolling back, knees giving up on him. And somehow the creature is still standing. That is until Jisung appears, putting both hands on it and making it explode in a crackling of blue lightning. Changbin realizes that Jisung could kill all of them in this room if he wanted to, but he can’t, because he’s on the floor holding his lover’s limp body.

Chan pulls him out of the way as another guard approaches them. He trips the clumsy creature and easily kicks its soft face in with the heel of his foot. Changbin’s knees buckle and he vomits, liquor from earlier spilling onto his clothes. Chan tries to pull him back up again, but Changbin is too scared and disgusted.

Across the room he spots Felix, quivering under a table much like he was before. No one can get to him, though, because Cheonsa is shielding him, a pile of three dead guards at her feet. 

Changbin puts his hands over his ears to block out the noise and almost laughs. Why does this keep on happening? Is he cursed? Why do people just continue to die around him, either on his orders or in his house, just everything he lays his hands on. Everything, everyone, it’s all–

The heavy, double doors get blasted open by a ball of fire, the explosion so loud that he feels something pop in his ears.

It’s Hyunjin. Finally. 

Even rotten monsters don’t stand a chance against fire. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> congratulations to the newlyweds....;;
> 
> i look forward to your comments, they bring me so much joy every week <3


	4. First Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lord, I wish I had a happier chapter to give to yall this week, but alas.
> 
> in case you missed the important update I posted earlier this week (I've deleted it now bc I'm really particular about chapter numbers ;;) I have written Woojin out of this entire series and replaced him with an OC who goes by the name Hangyeol!

(Please make sure you have read the notes ^^^^^)

“Is it done yet?”

Hyunjin asks the words again, for the hundredth time now. He’s becoming impatient.

The earth feels warm, even from where he’s kneeling, staring at the fire in front of him, sitting atop the freshly stirred ground. The fire has been burning for days now, so something should be happening. 

“It’ll be done when it’s done,” Minho answers before sitting down next to him. His friend starts cutting a peach, looking uninterested. But Hyunjin doesn’t miss his occasional peek at the fire.

Minho buried the enchanted lizard egg three days ago, and then Hyunjin laid a stack of wood on top of it, lighting it with his magic, causing the fire to burn without disruption. But Hyunjin just can’t get himself to leave the fire, he’s still worried that it’ll go out and ruin everything. He just cannot wait to meet his dragon.

“I can’t wait either,” Minho answers his thoughts, “when you have something to play with, you won’t be bothering me all day long anymore.” 

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “Sure. Me and the dragon will just bother you together.”

Minho smiles to himself and then offers Hyunjin a slice of the peach, which he takes gladly. He watches him eat for a moment, and then says, “I think I’ll make a cat next. I love cats.”

“My dragon will eat it,” Hyunjin jokes, digging his toes into the dirt. It’s so nice and warm. Safe. 

“Sure,” Minho says. He tosses the pit of the peach and wipes his hands on his pants. Then, for a moment he holds up his hand between them, hesitating. Hyunjin doesn’t comment on it, he knows his friend too well. Finally, Minho crosses the distance between them, awkwardly squeezing Hyunjin’s shoulder. “We’ll get off this island, you know? One day. I can feel it,” he says the words softly, almost drowned out by the sound of the firewood crackling.

Hyunjin just folds his arms and leans them on his knees, resting his chin as he stares at the fire.

He’ll believe it when he sees it.

* * *

“Do you think he knew?” Changbin’s voice cuts through the silence and everyone turns towards him, fire in their eyes. “I mean– we have to consider that maybe–”

“One more word and I’ll punch you,” Jisung sounds cold, “I’m not joking.”

“Sorry,” Changbin whispers, folding his hands and staring at the floor. When he finally has the courage again, he looks up at the scene in front of him. 

One of them isn’t enough for an injury this bad, so it’s Hyunjin on one side and Felix on the other, resting their hands on Minho’s chest as they try to keep him alive. There are dried tears on Felix’ cheek. Hyunjin, however, looks tense.

The only reason all of them are here is because of Hyunjin. His lover managed to burn and kill all the guards within a second of stepping into the dining room earlier. If only he had been there all along, if only Changbin didn’t send him away, if only–

“Fuck!” Hyunjin kicks against the bed Minho is resting on and pulls his hands away. He runs a shaky hand through his hair, tears gathering in his eyes. “He’s not even trying to stay alive,” Hyunjin explains, voice cracking.

“You don’t know that,” Jisung shakes his head, approaching the bed.

“I can feel it,” Hyunjin raises his voice and the temperature in the room rises instantly, “I’ve known him longer than you,” he adds, a sneer.

“Hyunjin–” Changbin warns, but it’s too late. 

Jisung could easily use his magic for this, and so could Hyunjin, but instead Jisung decides on physically tackling him, holding him down on the floor by his shoulders as he throws the first punch. Hyunjin takes it well, moving his face along with it, and then knees Jisung in the crotch, leaving him breathless and limp enough to flip their positions.

As he straddles him, Hyunjin raises his fist with the full intent of punching Jisung, but he drops it, letting his arm hang next to him as tears finally spill out with a sob. He slaps Jisung’s chest, softly, and Jisung finally breaks too, throwing an arm over his face to hide his tears. 

Changbin wishes he could comfort them, but he feels so out of place. It’s still like he’s just floating above the room, not involved in anything that’s going on, like nothing is real. He gets saved by the door opening, Chan gesturing for him to come. As he walks out, Felix still has his hands on Minho, not giving up. 

“I don’t like this situation, Changbin,” Chan whispers when they’re finally alone in the hallway.

Changbin presses his hands into his eyes, trying to make it all go away. “How do you think I feel?”

“I know how Minho’s magic works, and this shouldn’t have happened,” Chan nods to himself, “Something weird is going on, and I don’t like it.” He raises his finger. “Your father, and now this. Do you think someone has a grudge against your family?”

Changbin leans against the wall, a bit faint. He looks down and finds that he’s still wearing his dirty clothes, sticking to his skin. He doesn’t like this one bit either. Perhaps he should’ve stopped Minho from even making the guards in the first place. But his friend had assured him that he needed them to protect the city, to make up for most of the old guard that died in the war. Changbin trusted him on that.

“I feel like half of the world is against us or something,” Changbin finally says as he pulls his shirt away from his sticky skin, and then letting it drop again. “Any updates?”

“We worked through the night to kill the guards that were stationed all over the city. For many people we came too late. We’re guessing the deaths are in the hundreds.” 

Changbin bangs the back of his head against the wall, and again, and again, trying to clear the fog of exhaustion and dread. “Cheonsa?” he asks.

“Fought alongside us. Hangyeol too, and the few human guards that we still have.” Chan takes a deep breath and sighs. “Both of them have retired for the day, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Changbin echoes. Jiwoo died after all.

“How’s Minho?” Chan asks, eyeing the closed bedroom door.

Changbin shakes his head, too unsure to answer.

“I’ll say a prayer for him,” Chan makes an attempt to walk away, but then he remembers something. “Oh, by the way–”

Changbin looks up. “Hm?”

“The entire river is frozen.”

* * *

Changbin doesn’t remember ever experiencing cold like this. 

It’s like the tiles stick to the bottom of his shoes as he circles around the palace garden, deep in the night. He’s lucky that it’s a dry cold, or else he would’ve slipped and fallen on his face already. And that’s not something that would help him right now. The only reason why he’s outside to begin with, is because he needs to clear his mind, sort everything out. The only way to do that is to be under the night sky, free of distractions. 

Something is wrong, something is very wrong. He can feel it, in his bones, under his skin. But he just doesn’t know what’s happening. It’s like the answer is right there, slithering through his brain, but he can’t hear it. His life is too loud.

Somehow, he misses the war. The enemy was obvious back then, and that the moment of peace was easy to point out. But now he has nothing, just hunches and ideas.

He was wrong for saying that earlier, about Minho. Changbin shouldn’t have suggested that his friend knew this was going to happen. Especially since he took a knife to the heart and is currently barely clinging to life. Perhaps it was just a fluke, a glitch in Minho’s magic. Maybe he strayed too far in exploring his powers. 

It was probably bound to happen from the beginning. Changbin felt uneasy since the first time he laid his eyes on Minho’s creatures. There was something wrong with them, something so off.

Changbin thinks he should start trusting his intuition a bit more. 

He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat as he makes another round, circling the rotten garden with its flowers withered and plants frozen. It’s so damn cold.

And he feels alone in this, so alone. The cold is emphasized by Hyunjin’s absence, still by Minho’s side trying to bring him back together with Felix. His sister has holed herself up in her room, he doesn’t know where Hangyeol is. Hell, he hasn’t known where either Seungmin or Jeongin are for a fucking while now. Last time he saw Jisung earlier in the day, he was in the kitchen’s storage room, smashing plates against the wall. 

He has Chan, though. Maybe he should check if his friend is still awake so they can have a drink together. Chan doesn’t make him feel warm, but perhaps he can make him feel safe. He has saved his life too many times to count, after all.

Changbin freezes, stopping dead in his tracks on the garden’s path. 

He hears someone.

Humming. A sweet voice humming a melody. A lullaby. One that he knows all too well.

Slowly, he turns into the garden, peering through the slanting trees and decaying bushes. It’s almost too dark to see, the night sky accompanied by only a sliver of the moon. But once his eyes adjust, he can finally see the figure, swaying and humming in the middle of the garden, looking up at the sky.

Changbin’s hairs stand up instantly.

“Mom?” he calls out, stepping into the garden to get closer, the frozen grass crunching under his feet. His mom doesn’t respond, just continues to slowly dance to the melody she’s humming. For a second Changbin thinks that he’s having a nightmare again, but when he grabs her by the shoulders he finds that this is very real.

“Changbin!” his mom cheers as he turns her around, looking excited to see him.

She’s wearing nothing but a nightgown, fabric too thin to shield her from the cold. Changbin looks down and is horrified to see that she’s barefoot, blue toes digging into the frozen ground.

Changbin shakes her by the shoulders, trying to get some clarity into her. She just smiles, seemingly entertained by the motion. “Mom, what are you doing here?”

“Oh! I was waiting for someone!” she says, but then, her face falls, “Or, at least, I think I was. I’m not sure.”

Suddenly, Changbin notices how tired she looks, dark circles under her eyes. Even her cheeks are sunken, skinnier than she should be. Tears prick at his eyes as he squeezes her shoulders tighter, like he’s trying to keep her from slipping away, like she’s fleeting.

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” he says, voice composed, “it’s too cold.”

She holds onto his arm, following him meekly inside the palace and up the stairs. The whole time, Changbin can’t stop shaking, not from the cold but from distress. He doesn’t know what’s going on with her, or how to help her. First thing in the morning he will send out a letter to the best doctors in the country and have them visit the capital. Maybe, he should also ask if Hyunjin or Felix can somehow help. After Minho wakes up, that is.

But for now, he’s tucking his mother into bed, covering her with enough down-stuffed blankets to warm up her cold body. A fire crackles in the fireplace, still, its warmth obviously emanating Hyunjin’s magic. It puts Changbin at ease for a bit. At least she’s safe here.

“Sweetheart,” his mother calls out when he attempts to leave, thinking she had already fallen asleep, “sing that lullaby for me, please? The one I used to sing for you and your sister. Oh, how I miss those days,” her voice trails off.

Changbin takes a shaky breath, unsure of his voice as he sits down at the foot of the bed.

But then he sings. 

A song of a prince who never wanted to be a king. 

* * *

Hyunjin’s knees buckle the moment he walks into their shared bedroom, waking Changbin instantly at the crack of dawn. On instinct, Changbin is up and out of the bed immediately, in front of Hyunjin, holding his face to check on him.

“Are you okay?” His lover’s cheek is swollen, still, courtesy of Jisung’s fist. Changbin wonders why he hasn’t healed it yet, but figures it’s probably since he needs those powers for Minho now. 

“No,” Hyunjin shakes his head, “not at all.”

Changbin presses a quick kiss to his lover’s cheek, lips only pecking his bruise lightly, carefully. He wants to ask what’s wrong, but he thinks that he can guess most of it, so he just waits in silence, hoping Hyunjin will share.

And, thankfully, he does.

“It’s my powers, Bin.” Hyunjin brings up his hand slowly and lays it over Changbin’s. It takes a second, but then Changbin feels it, searing into his skin. He pulls away quickly, inspecting the hand-shaped burn that Hyunjin left. It’s not a deep one, and will probably fade by the end of the day, but still, it hurts.

“They’re too much, and I can’t even heal anymore, it’s–” Hyunjin’s voice breaks and he lets himself fall back onto his butt, sitting on the floor, further away from him. He brings his hands to his face, hiding behind it as he speaks. “It feels too heavy– wrong,” he sobs, “I’m not human anymore.” 

Changbin smiles, nudging Hyunjin’s bruise to get his attention. His lover hisses, but looks up anyway. “Whatever’s happening with you– with us right now, it will get better. It always does. We’ve been through hell and back, we got this.” He doesn’t say that life always needs to get worse before it gets better, because somehow that feels off. He doesn’t want things to get worse. If that’s even possible.

Hyunjin opens his mouth to speak, but gets silenced by a loud yell outside in the courtyard. 

It doesn’t sound friendly.

Changbin is on high alert instantly, getting up to look out the window and see what’s going on. He hears more shouts, and then he sees the source. A mob of citizens marching through the broken gates, carrying torches. It doesn’t look like a casual visit, or a statement like last time. They’re marching with intent.

“Get your sword,” Changbin says, scattering for his own. 

He’s the first to be outside, aching to somehow talk the crowd out of whatever they’re about to do. The rest of the palace is still asleep, and they must've known that, because suddenly it's just him and Hyunjin, standing in the courtyard facing a group of at least a hundred angry people.

One man separates himself from the crowd, walking forward until he's standing all by himself. He grabs a scroll from the inside of his warm coat and unrolls it, clearing his throat before reading it out loud. 

"We demand the king to step down from the throne and pay for his crimes of sending those monstrous creations all over town."

The voice echoes through the otherwise quiet courtyard and Changbin's heart sinks. 

"We demand a reform of the current political system, and that we as citizens can choose our next leader," the man shouts, and pauses to look over the scroll to let his eyes fall on Hyunjin for a moment. Then, he adds, 

"Also, we demand to be financially compensated for our losses, both in property and food."

Well, at least that's something Changbin can work with, something he can understand. It's something the people deserve, and would've gotten already if the whole country wasn't slipping through his fingers every minute of the day. 

"And finally–" a shadow falls over the man, breaking his focus. 

The man gets a second to look up at the sky, eyes widening in terror, before Geom rains down fire on him, burning him alive. 

Hyunjin pushes Changbin aside. “Geom!” he screams the name at the dragon, but he doesn’t listen. Instead, the beast just flaps his wings and takes off as the burning man finally falls forward, body like charcoal, smoking. 

The crowd breaks out in terrified screams, dispersing quickly. Most escape through the open gates, some pull on the heavy palace doors to hide inside. Changbin stands frozen in place, watching the back of Hyunjin’s head, speechless. 

Hyunjin’s eyes are on the sky, chasing Geom as he flies over the city. It’s like he’s waiting for something to happen, maybe for the dragon to return to him so he can scold him, or maybe–

Geom exhales a long stream of fire, flying over a street nearby, burning all the houses. Killing everyone. 

Hyunjin turns to Changbin, face paled and eyes desperate. Lost. 

"Get our horses," Changbin tells him, grabbing him by the shoulder, "we just need to get closer, he needs to hear you." Then, he shoves Hyunjin, urging his reluctant body into action. 

Finally, his lover runs to the stables. Changbin watches Geom turn on the wind, wings spread widely on the background of grey sky. He shrieks, finding another street that interests him, burning everything to ashes. There wasn't much left of the city to begin with after the war, but Geom is making sure to finish that job. 

Changbin grabs a fleeing citizen by the shirt before they can escape into the palace. "Tell someone– anyone, to ring the bells."

Another blast, this time further into the city. Changbin ducks on instant, shielding himself behind his arms. Smoke rises into the sky and mixes with the darkening, grey sky. But then there’s hooves on the cobblestone, and Hyunjin is there on his horse, pulling Hwan along by his reins. 

This time, fire shoots through the air even louder, booming like thunder and lighting up the whole sky. Hyunjin’s horse rears from fear, almost throwing him off, but he holds on tight, a determined look on his face.

As they dash through the broken gates, Changbin sorrowfully realizes that Geom is getting stronger by the second, his flame increasing in size and power. Or maybe he was this strong all along, and now that he’s going berserk, it’s finally coming out. 

The dragon flies towards the river, burning all the houses in his path. Hyunjin digs his heel into the horse’s side and speeds up, racing through the streets as Changbin can barely keep up.

“Geom!” Hyunjin calls, maneuvering past a house that’s burning down faster than wood should burn. “Geom, listen to me! Stop it!”

“It’s no use! We need to get closer!” Changbin gets the air knocked out of him as Hwan jumps over a fallen boulder, rush in his step to keep up with Hyunjin. He can’t lose him now. 

There’s a sense of dread weighing heavy on his body, but he lets the adrenaline overpower him. This is not the time to worry or think about the deaths and consequences of this moment. They just have to put a stop to it. Now.

Geom turns mid-air just as Hyunjin shouts his name again, and Changbin’s chest feels lighter. He’s finally heard him, he’s finally come to his senses, Hyunjin just has to calm him down, that’s all–

The blast throws Changbin off his horse and into an alley. Hwan trips, whinnying as he falls onto Changbin’s leg. He lets out a silent scream, trying to get his foot out from under the heavy body. As he reaches to pat Hwan's coat, to calm his horse down and urge him to get up, Changbin notices that his sleeve is scorched off, as is his skin.

Changbin wants to faint. 

As soon as he sees it, the pain is overwhelming, making him lightheaded. He can’t look at it, can’t even glance at the awful black spots that lay amidst the red and bubbling skin. Hwan manages to stand up, and blood streams back into his leg, returning its function. Somehow, he manages to get back on his feet by holding onto Hwan’s reins.

Outside the alley and on the main road lies Hyunjin’s horse, scorched and dead.

Changbin knows Hyunjin can’t be hurt by fire, so he must still be alive. Hearing his voice calling Geom’s name again proves it. He can’t blame Hyunjin for carrying on without him, because there’s more important things going on right now. 

With his arm hanging limp by his side, Changbin climbs on his horse again. Even if he’s hurt, hurt so bad that he can barely breathe, he needs to carry on and help. 

That’s what a king should do. 

The cold cuts away at his demolished skin as he gallops through the streets, twisting and turning around the people escaping their burning houses. He can hear the bells coming from the palace now, signalling for people to evacuate. As if the dragon flying over town, destroying everything in his path wasn’t enough to raise them out of their beds.

He catches up with Hyunjin, spotting him running ahead of him on foot, going downhill fast as Geom is now circling over the river. A new fear settles in Changbin’s chest as he remembers summer, and how he ordered Geom to burn all the bridges. Did they awaken something in him when they started using him for murder? Did the bloodlust finally rise up to the surface?

Changbin calls out for Hyunjin, but it falls on deaf ears, his lover too focused on the dragon.

The sight of the river being frozen over makes Changbin stop in his tracks. He thought Chan meant that there were maybe some frosty bits on the sides, by the riverbanks, but the whole thing is frozen, from one side to the other, a thick layer of ice. 

He remembers his dream from earlier. He remembers the snow on the ice that isn’t there now. He remembers it mixed with ashes. 

Hyunjin runs onto the ice, waving his arms to get Geom’s attention. His lover slips and falls, but gets back up again, all the while screaming his dragon’s name. All Changbin can do is watch from a distance, so unsettled by the sight before him.

Geom spots Hyunjin, slowly flapping his wings as he descends. Hyunjin slips and slides over the ice again, almost losing his sword, but he gets up again, determined. He must not even feel the cold.

Something wet hits Changbin’s cheek, and when he touches it, it is snow, mixed grey with the ashes of the capital burning. 

Changbin sits on his horse, frozen in place while his arm burns, a cruel mirror image of his city. He watches Geom slowly lower himself in the air, heavy wings clearing the snow that’s falling around him. Hyunjin comes to a stop in the middle of the frozen river, arms raised in the air to invite Geom to come closer.

The dragon looks confused, huffing out smoke through his nose, but curiosity wins in the end. Changbin can hear the ice moan under his heavy body as the dragon finally lands on the river. Steam drifts up around his claws as he walks closer to Hyunjin. The ice must be really thick for him to not sink straight through. 

Hyunjin gestures for him to come even closer, and from this distance, Changbin can even see the sweet smile on his lover’s face. No matter what happens, Geom will always be Hyunjin’s precious beast. And the feeling seems to still be mutual, because Geom sniffs Hyunjin’s hair without burning it, and lets himself get scratched on the chin.

Changbin lets out the deepest sigh, feeling so relieved that his body goes slack, exhausted. With fondness in his heart he watches Hyunjin go closer to the dragon, wrapping his arms around the creature’s neck in a warm and sweet hug.

So sweet that Geom doesn’t even notice it.

Doesn’t notice it when Hyunjin pulls his sword and slides it between the scales and into Geom’s throat. 

The shriek Changbin hears next makes his ears ring. Changbin wants to scream, but he can’t. Powerless, he can only watch while he feels burning tears stream over his face, can only watch as Hyunjin uses both of his hands to push the sword deeper, to the side, and out, slitting the dragon’s vital artery. 

Geom flails, shooting weak flames left and right as steaming blood gushes out of his wound. Hyunjin drops his sword onto the ice, and when Geom finally stops bashing around and falls over, so does Hyunjin. 

Changbin can’t do anything.

He can only watch as his lover sobs into his bloody hands while snow slowly falls on top of Geom’s dead body. 

He watches until the snow no longer melts on the lifeless body. No, it’s no longer hot like a fire. Geom’s body is cold now, so the snow piles until he is resting under a white blanket. 

* * *

Hyunjin’s face is impossible to read as he takes Changbin’s arm in his hands, dried dragon blood still under his fingernails as he hovers his palm over the open and throbbing third degree burn. He was right, he can’t heal in the way he used to, because even though the wound closes up slowly, it heals into a twisted scar with knots and bumps scattering on top of Changbin’s forearm. It feels tight, and the dull ache doesn’t leave no matter how hard Hyunjin tries.

Changbin wants to ask what happened on the river, why Hyunjin killed Geom, how they can even go from here, but before he can, Hyunjin raises his hand, shutting him up. So he stays quiet, but his eyes never leave the dragon pendant on the string around his lover’s neck. Hyunjin takes a deep breath from where he’s sitting on their shared bed, and then finally speaks.

“I could feel it–” Hyunjin lays his hand on his chest, “when I was that close to Geom, I could finally feel it. He wasn’t there anymore, there was nothing left of him, all that there was–” his breath hitches. He looks broken. Defeated. 

“What?” Changbin leans closer, trying to look deep into Hyunjin’s eyes to find any answers.

“Don’t you feel it, Bin?” Hyunjin shakes his head as he speaks. “It’s like before, but worse. I can feel it now, I can see it, it’s– it’s all around us, Bin, it’s everywhere, it’s suffocating me, heavy and–”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.” Changbin takes his lover’s face in his hands, nail picking at the dried blood on his cheekbone. “You can tell me.”

Hyunjin’s face drops when he finally says it. “It’s a curse. We’re cursed.” 

Changbin’s heart sinks as memories of the Deity of the North flash through his head. But it’s like Hyunjin can read his mind, because he shakes his head. “Not her. Someone– something more powerful.”

With the sound of fingers snapping, they’re no longer alone in the room.

“Well, well,” the new voice says, “now that you’ve figured it out I can finally be of help.” 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trust me when i say this hurt me too
> 
> <3


	5. The Last Deity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy friday! or... is it? (sorry, another sad chapter)
> 
> did yall see that 'stray kids back door opening video' btw, where Hyunjin had a sword and he stood in front of a bunch of fire? immediately reminded me of this story so I literally screamed when that dropped. also the pics from the new album of Changbin wearing a crown?? I'm loving this comeback!
> 
> PS. there's some comments I haven't replied to because sometimes it's SO HARD for me not to spoil the whole plot in a reply, so that's why! 😅 but I still read them and am very grateful for each comment!!

“You’re gathered here today so we can inform you of the awful event that occurred yesterday,” Changbin shouts the words, making sure that the entire crowd that has gathered by the palace can hear them. He’s standing on a makeshift stage, feeling an illusion of safety now that he’s more removed from the citizens that hate him. “Yesterday, another tragedy happened. Our dragon went berserk and took many lives. We are deeply sorry for this and have taken care of it.” 

He tries to sound calm and composed, but someone in the crowd already raises his hand to point at Hyunjin, who’s shifting on his feet uncomfortably next to him. “He killed the dragon! He saved us!”

“He’s our savior!” another person chimes in, and then more, a choir of the same statement over and over again.

“Changbin?” Cheonsa calls his name from behind him. When he turns, she has her hand on her sword, eyebrows raised in question.

He shakes his head, his crown shifting in his hair, and watches his sister stand back with the new guards they hired, humans this time. Jisung is there too, eyes blank and distracted, his mind probably with Minho. Chan is next to him, his hand pressed against Jisung’s back, holding him together. Hangyeol stands to Changbin’s side, his hand also on his sword, always alert.

Changbin barely manages to dodge the rotten apple that gets thrown at him, and then another one hits him in his shin, splattering apart, sour and rotten just like the mood of the crowd. Then another one.

Hyunjin raises his hand and the people quiet down, interested in what he has to say. 

“Is that what you want?” The crowd comes closer, curious. “Do you want me to save you?”

“Hyunjin–” Changbin asks, not loud enough for everyone to hear, “what are you even talking about? What do you mean?”

His lover turns to him, a smile on his face. “Sorry,” is all he says before he snaps his fingers.

Changbin’s cheek hits the wooden planks he was previously standing on instantly, a knee pressed in his back and the point of a sword digging into his cheek. He vaguely feels his arms being twisted and bound behind his back, tight and cutting off his blood supply. 

But he doesn’t fight it. Instead, he watches as Jisung gets whacked over the head with a stick, a weird and unfamiliar red flash blinding him. He blinks and when his vision returns, Jisung is unconscious and being cuffed. Hangyeol’s sword gets knocked out of his hand by the new guards, who block his way to get to Changbin and hold a sword to his throat. Cheonsa tries to fight, cuts one guard open. But she can’t win against whatever magic is being used against her now, another red flash and she is also asleep, sinking to the ground. 

Chan watches with eyes widened, too shocked to move, looking at Changbin, confused. “Chan, do something!” Changbin calls out, but instead, Chan just sinks to his knees with his hands up, surrendering. When Hangyeol realizes it’s futile, he does the same, kneeling with his hands in the air. But Changbin knows that look in his good friend’s eyes. He’s biding his time for when his chances are better.

Hyunjin squats next to Changbin. “I’ll be taking this now,” he says, peeling the crown off of Changbin’s head and putting it on his own, pinning it to place in his long hair. 

All Changbin can hear while he’s dragged into the palace is the crowd cheering. 

* * *

The guards don’t bother to untie him when they throw him in the dungeon cell. One even spits, a glob of snot landing between Changbin’s legs on the dusty floor before they lock the door, walking off into the long hallway. He scrambles to get up and bangs his shoulder against the door. “Let me out! I am the king!”

“Not anymore!” one guard calls out before they disappear out of hearing distance.

The slow sound of clapping is a welcome one, echoing against the thick walls of the cell he’s in.

“You put on quite a show there. Both of you,” and then, snapping his fingers, the altar boy appears. “Would’ve even fooled me, if I didn’t know better,” Haechan says.

Changbin laughs bitterly. “Well, it was your idea, wasn’t it?” He walks to where the boy is casually lounging on the only bench in the otherwise empty cell. “Cut me loose, will you,” he asks, turning to show the rope that’s still wrapped around his arms.

Haechan sighs, and then with a red flash, the ropes are gone. 

Changbin rubs at his wrists, rolling them and stretching his joints. “Can’t believe everyone fell for it.”

“And now, whoever’s fucking with you thinks that you’re here,” Haechan gestures at the room, “out of the picture.”

“You’re still not gonna tell me what’s going on?” Changbin raises his brows, challenging the kid.

Haechan sits up straight, his smile falling. Then, he slowly runs a line along his throat, mimicking his throat getting cut.

Right. That's as much as he could tell them when he appeared in Changbin and Hyunjin's bedroom last night. If he talks about it, he dies. Magic spells can be fun like that. 

“So? What’s next?” Changbin asks, because he just wants to move forward as fast as possible. The memory of Jisung being knocked out, his sister too, it’s bitter and pulls at his conscience. Even more so the memory of Chan and Hangyeol giving in so easily.

“I’m taking you to the person that _can_ help you.” Haechan laces his fingers together and stretches them, joints popping. “We’ll sneak out once I’ve taken a nap,” the boy says, laying back down on the bench.

“But–” Changbin tries to complain, but Haechan waves him away. 

“I need to recover! Do you know how hard it was to enchant all those guards?” He turns his back to him and whispers some cuss words, fully set on ignoring him.

Changbin just slides down to the floor, back resting against the wall until he hears the boy snoring. What just happened was absolutely awful, horrifying even, but it was necessary. It hurt to see Hyunjin pretend that he was committing a coup, and it hurt even more to see everyone believe it so easily. 

But it was a necessary evil. Now he’s free. Free to explore this solution that Haechan is dangling in front of him. Free to try and lift this curse that was put on them. Again. 

* * *

“You can take your hood off now, we’re safe,” Haechan says in front of him, the hooves of his horse digging into the snow being the only other sound between them.

“It’s too cold for that,” Changbin argues as he only wraps his fur coat tighter around him. Hwan huffs beneath him, his precious horse not adjusted to the cold at all. Changbin plucks some snow out of his mane, and then strokes him, soothing.

It was easier than expected to escape the dungeons, to get his horse from the stable, no one to guard it now that Seungmin is gone. Leaving the city turned out to be easy too, just riding through the streets like any other commoner. Though, it really helped to have someone with him who could bend people’s minds and perceptions, practically making the two of them invisible until they were out of the city’s bounds.

Haechan told him that whoever they’re visiting, was only half a day’s ride up north. Changbin can’t believe that the answer was this close all along, right under his nose. That is, if he’s not being fooled by the young witch boy.

He watches the back of the kid’s head, thinking. Changbin has no reason to trust him, and yet he does. Haechan might seem composed and unbothered by everything, but Changbin can sense it. Under his mask of carelessness hides a fragile boy who’s currently fearing for his life. 

“Will you return to your Priestess after this?” Changbin asks, hoping this is something he can answer despite whatever spell is cast upon him.

Haechan looks over his shoulder, annoyed. “Don’t be stupid.” Then, he adds, “I have a friend in Sinhae, I’ll be visiting him. You might know him. A bird told me he poked around a bit with your godslayer.” 

Changbin remembers the young witch, the one he met while negotiating with the Sinhaean prince. The one that had Jisung’s mouth melted shut with magic. Changbin nods to himself, because it makes sense for them to be friends. 

“There it is,” Haechan digs his heels in and his horse scurries forward to what seems to be a simple, snow-covered hill. “Good to see they still have my spell working,” he says, and then with the snap of a finger, a large entrance appears in the hill.

It’s a cave.

“Your spell?” Changbin asks, eyeing the dark tunnel nervously.

“I used to work here.” Haechan’s hands tighten on the reins of his horse. “Anyway, I’m leaving.”

Changbin climbs off his horse and looks up at him with a frown. “You’re not coming?”

“No way. I didn’t leave things on good terms last time,” Haechan explains, worrying Changbin even more. If whoever’s in there is someone to hold grudges, then maybe Changbin doesn’t want anything to do with them.

But then suddenly, Changbin remembers, reaching into the pocket of his coat to take out the small book, the one that supposedly holds his family’s history. “Before you leave, could you tell me what kind of spell is on this lock?” he asks, holding it up for Haechan to take.

“Are you serious?” Haechan flips the book around in his hands. “This has a family spell. Here, give your hand.”

Changbin holds his palm up, and with a flash and a burn, Haechan slices his skin open. “What the–” Changbin tries to pull his hand back to press the wound closed, but the other doesn’t let him, grabbing him and sticking the book under his hand, letting his blood spill into the lock.

With a click, the lock shoots open.

“Stupid ass,” Haechan whispers under his breath as he gives him the now unlocked book. 

Changbin just eyes it, shocked. Now he can finally open it and learn everything there is to know about his history. Perhaps there are answers in this book that he didn’t even think he needed to know. And yet, his fingers hesitate on the cover, shaking but not from the freezing cold. He has bigger problems now, more urgent problems. Finding out about his family can wait. The book won’t tell him who has cursed him, but whoever is at the end of this cave _will._

When he looks up, Haechan has already put some distance between them, trudging to the snow and heading towards their neighboring country. But then, he pauses, looking over his shoulder to yell one more thing to Changbin.

“You need to bring your horse inside!”

* * *

The cave is way more spacious than it seemed from outside, its ceilings high and round as Changbin slowly descends into the tunnel, walking his horse by the reins. Hwan whinnies uncomfortably, stopping every now and then until Changbin tugs him along. He can’t blame the horse. Changbin is nervous too.

There are torches on the walls, illuminating the space and showing him where to safely plant his feet. Though, he doesn’t have to worry much about tripping since the ground is smooth and clean. It’s almost like the cave is man-made, dug out by an expert. But that must have happened a long, long time ago because it _feels_ ancient, like there’s a history to this place. 

Changbin stops dead in his tracks when he hears the sound, Hwan stopping alongside him. There’s footsteps, multiple pairs, and they’re coming closer. The sound echoes against the walls in unison, like marching. Hwan pulls on the reins again, wanting to turn around and leave.

Four men appear from the shadows, walking in a two by two formation, wearing heavy cloaks with a hood covering most of their faces. They have their hands folded in front of them, poised. The men all stop at the same time, right in front of Changbin.

“Our master, he is expecting you,” the man on the left says, mouth moving under eerie shadows.

Changbin tightens his grip on the reins, taking a step back. “And who might that be?”

“God of earth and stone, the Deity of the West, of course,” the man on the right says.

Changbin wants to laugh. How could he forget that there was another deity? And he was living right under his nose all this time, just half a day away from the capital. If he had known this, he would’ve reached out sooner. He wonders why Daehwi never told him. But then again, there were probably many things the eastern deity didn’t tell him in their short time together. 

The two men that were standing behind the others approach, taking the reins of Changbin’s horse out of his hands. “We’ll take him from here,” they say in unison. Changbin gets the idea that he doesn’t have a choice but to hand him over, much like he doesn’t have a choice but to follow them deeper into the cave. Deeper into the earth. 

The cave becomes narrower, and there are twists and turns. Changbin feels like oxygen is sparse now, but it might also just be his nerves. But then, finally, the tunnel comes to an end at a set of heavy, blood-red wooden doors. When they get pushed open, Changbin loses his footing for a moment, shocked by the sight in front of him. 

They enter a room– no, a hall, with a ceiling so high that he can’t even see where it ends. The walls are covered with a million candles, making the space feel hot, and yet their light doesn’t shine brightly at all, dulled by the space. There’s a constant humming sound, coming from the rows upon rows of cloaked individuals standing in lines on each side of the hall, their hands folded.

Changbin doesn’t even want to count them. He swallows. If these people are the deity’s followers, then he must be strong. 

In the middle of the space, there’s a large, golden bowl, standing on stone legs, filled to the brim with sand. The bowl is polished so well, that Changbin can see his reflection in it even from this distance.

His reflection looks so small.

Suddenly, everyone in the room kneels down. Except for Changbin, and except for the man that slowly approaches from the other end. The man takes off his hood, revealing dark hair trimmed very shortly. He looks well-kempt, not as ragged as all the other people in the room. This must be the deity. He has his eyes on Changbin, stern, and when he stops in front of the bowl, he gestures for Changbin to approach.

“You have questions,” he states when Changbin is in front of him, the golden bowl being the only thing that stands between them. 

Changbin swallows, and then painfully clears his throat. “And I’ve been told you have answers.”

“I have all the answers in the universe,” the deity strokes his chin, looking him up and down, and then adds, “but I can only give you one. For a price of course.”

“A price,” Changbin repeats. With pain in his heart, he thinks of how empty his treasury is after his deal with the pirates. But, looking around this empty room… perhaps the deity isn’t a very luxurious person, perhaps he could make him happy with whatever he has left to offer. Because he knows he would give him everything he has to just make everything stop, to turn everything back to normal. 

“Ask your question,” the deity urges, and the humming around them continues, all of his worshippers rubbing their hands together as they kneel.

“There’s a curse placed upon me,” Changbin starts, and the deity nods, confirming that he already knows this, “I need– I need to know who I’m up against here. Who is the reason all of this is happening, who–”

“Who is your enemy,” the deity completes his sentence, nodding. The man looks down at the bowl of dirt and runs a finger through it, absentmindedly. “Your horse.”

“Huh?” Changbin frowns. He doesn’t mean his horse is the enemy, or does he–

“As payment,” the deity explains, “I require a blood sacrifice.”

Involuntarily, Changbin lets his mouth drop. Cold and painful sweat sets on his neck, and then all over his body, pricking at his skin as his heart speeds up. He almost wants to laugh, incredulous. This guy wants to– what? Kill his horse? Is he insane?

Changbin looks over his shoulder, panicked. Hwan is eating an unrotten apple out of one of the men’s hand, while another strokes his golden mane. 

He can’t do this.

That’s his horse. A gift from his mother when everything was still as it should be. A horse so stubborn that it had saved Changbin’s life on multiple occasions. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to enter the cave. Hwan probably felt it coming. 

Realization settles in Changbin’s gut. 

It’s impossible for him to even consider handing his horse over, and that’s exactly why he should. He has to pay a price, and there’s no greater price than this. An exchange. He will get an answer to his question, a question that is worth a thousand lives, not just one. From that point of view, it’s actually a small price to pay. But that doesn’t mean that it’s easy.

He’s been protecting himself for too long. Shielding himself from trauma, from pain, from the unchanging impact of taking a life. Perhaps he’s been hiding behind his morals, pretending to be a good person who doesn’t want to kill when he’s actually just scared to get himself too involved with anything painful. He has sent out soldiers to die, his friends and family have been hurt because of him, people have been affected for life, all in his name. Now it’s time for him to make a sacrifice. A personal one. 

Changbin nods, bottom lip shaking. “Make it quick.” 

The deity hums and reaches behind himself. When the candlelight reflects off the blade he pulls out of his robe, Changbin feels like he’s blinded, so he squeezes his eyes shut. He hears a huff from Hwan as he’s pulled forward by his reins and the clucking of his hooves on the stone floor is deafening.

Much like the others in the room, Changbin kneels down. But it’s not voluntary, no, his knees just buckle. He folds his hands over his ears to escape his reality. Running away seems tempting, calling it all off and just living with the curse even more so. But this needs to happen. It’s his choice, it’s his decision, he’s doing this to him, he–

Changbin lets his hands drop and forces his eyes open.

He’s allowing this to happen so he will watch. He will watch and live with the guilt, with the pain. It’s time to own up to the suffering he’s causing. No more looking away and feigning ignorance. 

The deity stands before the horse, stroking him between his ears, flattening out his mane where it falls beautifully over his eyes. And still, Hwan’s eyes are widened in fear, the candlelight of the room reflecting on his dark pupils. But he’s unmoving, frozen as the deity presses a kiss right above his nose.

“Beautiful,” the deity whispers before slitting the horse’s throat in a quick, clean cut.

Changbin cries.

Something changes inside of him, and he knows he will never recover from this. The pain is so visceral, so deep. Nothing will ever compare to watching his horse bleed out as he lets out his final, panicked wails. The sound will never leave Changbin’s memory. The horror has settled in his skin, in his bones, in his heart. He shakes but he doesn’t look away, sobbing as Hwan sinks through his legs. The deity reaches down, slipping a hand into the still bleeding cut.

Changbin lets out another sob. The deity is walking towards the bowl with his bloody hands as Hwan still twitches, already forgotten by the man. But it’s over, he cannot be saved anymore.

The deity urges Changbin to stand, and so he does, mind numb and legs shaking.

He watches as the deity lets a drop of blood fall from his hand and into the bowl of sand. The sand absorbs it, as it would, and nothing happens. But then, the blood multiplies, becomes more visible, pulling Changbin forward. He can’t look away as it spreads. 

And then, it takes on a shape that is unmistaken, followed by words that he never wished to see.

* * *

Changbin’s body is stiff when he walks out of the cave, hugging his fur coat closer to his body. More snow has fallen since he went inside, so the layer he has to trudge through is thick. He picks a tree, a beautiful oak that isn’t rotten like the ones in the capital. The snow wets the fabric of his pants, soaking him with a cold feeling as he sits with his back pressed against the tree.

With a heavy heart, he finally opens the book he was hiding in his coat, with the intention to learn and find out _why._

He flips through the first pages that just portray his family tree and all the boring personal details about the kings before him. Reading about his grandfather’s favorite book, or that his great-grandmother kept ducks doesn’t matter to him now.

It’s almost as if he’s supposed to land on the page, because the book falls open somewhere in the middle, pulling him in to look closer. 

_‘The War on Witchcraft’_

He reads the chapter, and then he reads it again, all twenty pages, all the horrifying illustrations.

For five generations, the royal family has been tracking down, capturing and murdering any witch they got their hands on. The book speaks of trade expeditions and conquests that just served as a guise for their hunt. He reads about more than a thousand witches being murdered. He hopes it’s an exaggeration.

There’s a chilling description on how to test babies for magic, and how to dispose of them safely when you find them to be a witch. There’s images of dissections, usually performed while still alive. Changbin feels sick, disgusted, angry, but most of all he’s beginning to understand.

And then, his eyes fall on a name. It covers his heart in ice, painful ice.

The Han family has been serving the Seo’s for ages, but not out of kindness, apparently. To keep them close and under control. The most powerful witch family was allowed to live, as long as they provided their servitude to the king. Their service stretched over so many ages, all while repressing their magic, that the Han family eventually forgot about their powers.

Another puzzle piece clicks into place. 

Changbin tosses the book to the side, letting it sink into the snow, and leans back against the tree to close his eyes.

He understands everything now. The creatures, Geom, wanting to be close to Jisung, the grudge against the Seo family.

He understands the shape of a bleeding heart that appeared in the sand, a heart that has just been stabbed, that is so desperately gripping onto life.

He understands why the deity said, “Your true enemy shares a bed with your childhood friend.”

But still, it hurts, it hurts so fucking bad to realize that it was him all along, from the start.

Minho. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh....
> 
> last chapter next week + the epilogue on the same day <3


	6. Send Me Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy friday!! wait, no! it's thursday!! today it's exactly 1 year since I posted the first chapter of Between Waves of Fire, so I'm posting a day early <3
> 
> sorry for not replying to the comments last week, but I just couldn't because i was ACHING to spoil everything aaahhhhh. but I read them all and they filled me up with joy!!! I'll be replying to comments again from now.
> 
> warnings for this chapter: everything!
> 
> and... it did make sense, didn't it... :)

“Ow!” Changbin pulls his hand back from the candle, blowing at his palm to cool down the spot where he burned himself.

“Changbin,” his mom lowers her hands, laying down the embroidery she’s working on in her lap, “kids your age shouldn’t be playing with fire.” 

“I wasn’t!” he argues, but he can’t deny the red spot on his skin.

His mother pins her sewing needle into the fabric and holds out her hand, gesturing for him to lay his in hers. He does so, a bit annoyed that his hand is still smaller than hers, but then he just watches as she presses a quick kiss to his burned skin.

“It won’t scar,” she says, softly running her thumb over the red spot, “but sometimes it’s good to leave a scar.” 

“Why,” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

His mother just smiles at his childish curiosity. “It reminds us of the lessons we’ve learned.” 

* * *

“It’s good to see you have recovered well.”

Minho shifts, wincing from the movement and grabbing at the bandaging that is wrapped around his chest. “I get stabbed in the heart,” Minho’s breathing is shaky, “I finally wake up, and then you stab me again.”

Changbin purses his lips, looking down at his fingers to stare at a cuticle that’s peeling. He tears it off. It bleeds. “How do you think that I feel?” 

Minho tries to sit up, struggling to do so. Changbin has to stop himself from getting up to help on instinct. Minho straightens himself on the bench and leans against the dungeon cell’s wall. His new home. “I wonder. How _do_ you feel, Changbin? Tell me. I’m not going anywhere.” He gestures around himself and adds, “Obviously.”

He sure isn’t, Changbin made sure of that.

Traveling on foot to the capital was difficult. His shoes were soaked and his joints stiff and painful when he walked up to the gates of the palace. There was a moment of tension, the new guards not letting him since he was technically supposed to still be imprisoned the last time they checked, but Hyunjin intervened. And with the news that Changbin had found the answer to their predicament, Hyunjin gave Changbin back his crown, granting him full reign.

He didn’t miss the look of regret and horror on his lover’s face when he explained to him that his best friend was the source of the nation’s suffering. But Changbin didn’t have time to convince him, because he needed to act fast. Apparently, Minho finally woke up, just barely healed enough by Felix for Changbin to give out the order to put him in jail.

Minho gave in easily, for there was no fight left in him. 

And now they’re here, just them in a cell, Minho chained to the wall by his ankle, and Changbin free to do whatever he wants with him. But all he wants is to just talk and find out why.

“I feel–” Changbin looks up at the ceiling, “betrayed. Confused too. Why did you do it?”

Minho holds his gaze for a long moment, eyes dark and filled with something that Changbin can’t put his finger on. “If I tell you that you’re wrong, would you listen to me?”

“There’s no denying it, Minho. I went to someone, he told me,” Changbin argues and Minho just closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as far as his injured chest allows him to, “and it was your creatures that attacked us, made with your magic. And then also Geom, you made him too–”

Minho’s eyes fly open. “Geom? What happened with Geom?” 

“He– he went berserk. Burned the whole city.” Changbin shakes his head at the memory. He can still smell the fire. “Hyunjin stopped him. He killed him.”

Minho drops his head, looking at the shackle around his ankle. Then, with what looks like all the strength he has left in his body, he lifts himself off the bench by his arms, slowly standing. The chain rattles against the stone floor as he walks towards Changbin, closing the distance between them.

When he finally looks up, there’s tears running down his cheeks. It’s been so long since he’s seen Minho cry. Changbin is shocked, frozen in place as Minho grabs the front of his shirt, only to shove him towards the door. 

Minho’s voice cracks when he finally speaks, weighed down by tears. 

“Get out.”

Changbin leaves him be, for now. The guards look wary as they lock the cell door behind him, but at least they do as they’re told. Changbin can feel his mind slipping, confused and working overtime. Everything makes sense on paper, but he still feels like he’s missing something. There’s questions unanswered, things to be solved. And above all of that, as he climbs the stairs leading him out of the basement, he still feels that heavy energy, the one Hyunjin pointed out to him, the one that feels like a curse.

He pushes the final door open and gets hit in the face, a blue flash blinding him. 

Changbin stumbles, holding onto his knees to not topple over from the dizziness the blow caused. His vision is double, blurry, so he can’t even count the drops of blood that are dripping onto the floor. There’s a weird feeling in his mouth, so he spits, a bloody tooth falling between his feet

“Want another one? I can go all day.” 

Ah, of course. Jisung must’ve been let out of confinement by now and found out about Minho.

“Listen, Ji, I can explain, it’s–” Changbin gets a foot in his stomach, knocking the air out of him. He finally gives out, falling forward. His lost tooth digs into the skin of his knee as he kneels down, grabbing at his stomach.

“You’re putting anyone in jail now? Huh?” Jisung squats in front of him, eyes on fire and blue sparks crackling all around him like a thunder cloud. His friend snatches him by the hair, pulling him up to face him. “You gonna hang him? Burn him? Or chop off his head?”

“Jisung–”

“Whatever you do to him, you’re gonna have to do it to me too,” Jisung says before he lets go of him, letting him fall to the floor again. For a second it seems like Jisung is going to give him a final kick, but instead, he just lets out a shaky breath, eyes lingering on Changbin’s face. And then, he’s gone, back turned and storming off. 

* * *

The stables feel empty without Hwan’s presence. 

Changbin stands in front of the empty stall where his beloved horse used to reside. The hay on the ground is still there, disturbed by Hwan’s hooves from the moment he took him out last, never to return again. He wishes he could run his hands over his beautiful golden coat one more time, just to remember the days when life was still normal.

There’s a huff, and then a loud snort, one of the horses in the stable is restless. Changbin looks over his shoulder and finds it to be Chan’s stallion, his head sticking out over the rest of the horses, impossibly large. 

Changbin grabs a handful of barley from the bag that’s propped up against the wall and walks over to the horse, holding his hand up in offering. Two black eyes stare back at him, and Changbin realizes he’s still scared of the black-coated stallion, but not as terrified as he used to be. In their essence, all animals are innocent, after all.

“Astoral, right?” Changbin remembers his name. “It’s alright, I mean no harm,” he says, voice as gentle as it can be, and finally the horse dips his head to eat from Changbin’s hand. 

“He likes you.” 

Changbin turns his head to see Chan lean against the stable doors, arms crossed and a gentle smile on his face.

“That doesn’t happen often,” Chan continues, coming closer to stroke the stallion’s mane, hair rough and blacker than coal. “I’m glad that he’s careful. He’s all I have left from home.” Chan’s eyes soften as he watches Changbin continue to feed the horse. “I’m sorry about what happened to Hwan. And Geom,” then, after a pause, “and Minho.”

Changbin lets the horse lick the last of the barley from his hand, and then pulls it away the moment he feels teeth, laughing weakly at the behavior. He wipes his hand on his pants and considers Chan’s words. 

Today has just been plain awful.

Hyunjin told him he needs some time alone after Changbin put Minho in prison, still not able to wrap his head around his best friend being a traitor. It hurt, it hurt so much to see Hyunjin not trust his decision, and to not even have his lover by his side in this horrid situation. They could’ve been comforting each other right now, to work through the feelings of betrayal together. But instead, Changbin is alone.

Cheonsa took it well, surprisingly so. Of course, she was upset to be imprisoned, and angry that Changbin didn’t confide in her, but she understood. She told him that she would’ve done the same. Anything to protect the country. Changbin thinks it’s the first moment in his life that he’s ever seen his sister proud of him. 

And yet, Changbin doesn’t feel at ease. Minho might be in prison now, but that still doesn’t lift the curse. He needs to talk to him to find out how to fix this, how they can solve this without spilling any blood, but he can’t figure it out. His mind is too clouded with emotions to even think straight. 

“Chan,” Changbin asks, his voice close to a whisper, “do you think you can ever truly _know_ someone?” 

Chan laughs, softly, and then counters, “Do you even truly know yourself?”

No, is what Changbin wants to say, but he can’t. He used to think he knew himself through and through, but now he just doesn’t. When he looks in the mirror he doesn’t even recognize the man that’s staring back at him. He used to be so full of dreams, full of hope and love. Now he’s just empty. 

So instead of answering, he cries. He just cries and lets his emotions speak. Chan jolts next to him, startled by the sudden eruption of tears. But then he does something he’s never done before. 

Chan takes Changbin into his arms, wrapping him into a tight hug. 

“You’re doing great, Changbin, you’re doing the best you can,” Chan says as he runs his fingers through his hair, cradling his head lovingly.

Changbin thinks that though he has lost one friend now, he might have gained another. 

* * *

“Your Majesty, there’s a visitor for you. He wants to meet you and Hwang Hyunjin in the throne room,” one of the new guards tells him.

“Who is it?” Changbin asks, leaning into the chair behind his desk.

“He told me to not say his name, for safety purposes, but he’s a friend. He’s still outside of the palace, but I’ll bring him in.” The guard’s eyes are stern, and for some reason, Changbin trusts him, so he just nods and gestures for him to go ahead.

Changbin finds Hyunjin to already be in the throne room.

His lover’s back is facing him, and he doesn’t even react when Changbin enters the room. Instead, Hyunjin continues to stare at the throne as if he’s in a daze. When he comes closer, he notices the dried up tear streaks on his lover’s face, and just how swollen his eyes are. He doesn’t look like he’s been getting much sleep these days. It makes Changbin instantly forget they were supposed to be meeting a visitor.

“I miss the island,” Hyunjin whispers when he finally notices him. Changbin doesn’t know what to say, but Hyunjin continues, “The biggest problems I was facing back then were so simple. I miss it.” 

Changbin lays his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “I’m sorry–”

Hyunjin shakes his head. Then, he turns to him, tears filling his eyes again. “It isn’t Minho, Bin.”

“But–” Hyunjin puts his hand over Changbin’s mouth, silencing him. He pulls it away when he knows he will stay quiet, and instead just scratches at a piece of dried up blood in the corner of Changbin’s mouth, his knocked out tooth still bleeding. 

“I was born to worship, born to serve,” Hyunjin starts, holding Changbin’s face with both hands now, “Nothing made me happier than tending to the shrine of the southern deity when I was still a child. I never longed for powers, or to be in charge.”

Changbin remembers the story, remembers how Hyunjin was forced into his life as a deity against his will. He doesn’t understand where he’s going with it, so he just listens, patiently allowing his lover to explain.

“Ever since people started praying to me, I’ve been hungry for more,” Hyunjin confesses, “And when you left, that crown felt so good on my head.” Hyunjin squeezes his cheeks tighter, shaking him slightly. “That’s not me, Changbin, I’m not like that. I even had a dream of killing you and taking the throne for good. That’s not me.”

“What are you saying?” Changbin asks, finally, quietly in the even quieter room.

“It’s in my brain, Changbin, it’s corrupting me, it’s corrupting everyone in the palace. Everyone has been acting weird, haven’t they?” Hyunjin shakes him, making his head spin. “Haven’t they?” he repeats, and then, “Minho isn’t strong enough to do that. I thought it was just me who was cursed. Me and Geom. And those creatures. But it’s all of us.”

Changbin shakes his head slowly in Hyunjin’s hands. That’s too much to take in, but his mind is already beginning to provide him with examples of people acting differently, things being wrong. He thinks of the trees rotting, the gambling and murders in the city, his good friend and pacifist Hangyeol suddenly participating in illegal fights to make money, Seungmin leaving. 

There are so many more examples popping up in his head, but somehow there is only one that stands out. He remembers it so well, that day in the basement, when Minho showed him his creation.

Minho would never harm a cat.

Hyunjin is right.

And yet, the message from the deity was so obvious. ‘Your true enemy shares a bed with your childhood friend’ and the image of a bleeding heart in the sand. Couldn’t miss. 

“Then who? Or what?” Changbin’s voice breaks, overcome with confusion. 

The door to the throne room falls shut, followed by a loud click echoing off the walls. They both turn, instantly on edge by the hooded figure that stands with their back against the door, a shadow covering their face. “If I told you, would you believe me?” the familiar voice says, and then the man lowers his hood, revealing his face.

“Seungmin?!” Changbin slips from Hyunjin’s hold, running towards his friend. “Where have you been?”

“On the run,” Seungmin explains.

“From who?” Hyunjin comes closer.

Seungmin undoes his robe and tugs on the laces of his shirt, loosening them. Instead of answering, Seungmin just shows them, letting the shirt slip off his shoulder.

When Changbin sees the wound, it tells him everything he needs to know. 

* * *

“Hey there, friend,” Changbin says when Hangyeol finally opens his front door, still looking half asleep, one eye bruised and swollen from a fight probably.

“Now’s not a good time,” Hangyeol says, looking nervously over his shoulder, into his home.

“I’m the king. Let me in,” Changbin smiles, but there’s no kindness to it. From the corner of his eyes he sees Hyunjin in the shadows of the alley, out of Hangyeol’s line of sight, there to intervene if things go sour.

But Hangyeol steps aside, loyal as ever. He casts his eyes to the floor as Changbin steps inside his house, avoiding him. It’s been a while since he’s been here. Last time it was still bubbling with life, courtesy of Hangyeol’s sister. Now the home feels dull, dead.

“Are you alone?” Changbin asks.

Hangyeol doesn’t answer.

That’s enough reason for Changbin to push open the door to his bedroom to find exactly who he’s looking for, sleeping in his childhood friend’s bed. Everything is as the deity told him, he just misinterpreted it. 

Asleep, he looks almost angelic, none of his normal presence emanating from him. His chest rises and falls slowly, stretching the red scar on his chest; a bloody heart, just like he saw in the sand. 

Changbin thinks he knew all along. 

Since the very first time they met, sitting by a campfire and grilling meat together, Changbin knew that he was no good. He should’ve trusted his intuition, but perhaps his powers were already corrupting him back then, making it unable for him to think clearly.

Changbin sighs, defeated, and yet no longer powerless. 

“Wake up, Chan.”

* * *

Changbin dresses himself slowly and with intent. He hasn’t been in his ceremonial wear since the day he was crowned to be king. The heavy mantle weighs down on his arms as he puts said crown on his head, his neat hair instantly in disarray. 

The process is soothing, and it almost distracts him from what’s about to happen.

It’s been a day since he found out, but he didn’t get any sleep. His mind has been too busy with piecing everything together. And when his mind got tired of that, it switched back to the memory of Seungmin’s awful wound.

Seungmin told him what happened during his first week of working at the family that took him in. He couldn’t sleep well, not enough of the familiar sounds of the palace stables to lull him to sleep. So he went for a walk by the river, the only place that was ever able to calm him down. 

That’s where he stumbled upon Chan and Jihyo, discussing the downfall of the nation.

Chan tried to get him, and he almost did, leaving an ugly and rotting handprint on Seungmin’s shoulder. But Seungmin slipped away and jumped in the river. When Seungmin didn’t resurface, Chan probably assumed him to be dead.

Luckily for Seungmin, Jeongin got to him and dragged him all the way to safety, out of sight. But Seungmin was weakened and hurt, and above that, absolutely terrified. Which is why it took him a long month of recovering before he was able to travel back to the capital. He was surprised to find out that Hyunjin was wearing the crown when he arrived, so he hid in the shadows until Changbin returned. 

Changbin sighs, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He looks like a king. He absolutely hates it.

He looks at the slight shimmer of a handprint on his neck, the traces of frostbite from where the northern deity grabbed him soon after they left the island. On his eyebrow sits a scar, the one he got in the war while fighting on the pirate ship. From under his sleeve and onto the top of his hand, there’s the burn from a few days ago, when Geom almost killed him. He laughs when he finds that his cheek is a bit swollen, courtesy of Jisung knocking out his molar. 

They’re all a treasure to him; lessons learned.

“It’s time,” Hyunjin sticks his head through the door opening, “Everyone is waiting.” 

“I know.” Changbin straightens his mantle, checking his appearance one last time. He’s nervous. He’s never done a trial before. 

Hyunjin grabs Changbin’s sword from where it’s propped up against the wall. “Don’t forget this. It’s formal attire.”

“Thanks,” Changbin hooks it to his belt, “Which is weird, by the way.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “Tradition, I guess.”

Changbin nods, and then notices the look on Hyunjin’s face. He’s worried, and his frown has etched a permanent wrinkle in his forehead. So Changbin reaches for it, smoothing his skin with his thumb. Hyunjin just lets out a shaky sigh, clearly not relieved of his concerns.

“We’re going to figure this out, okay? I’ll get to the bottom of it,” Changbin promises, “This ends today.” He seals his promise with a kiss, and somehow it feels more meaningful than it has ever felt. Touching Hyunjin burns, his magic still so unstable, but he can take it. It’s worth playing with Hyunjin’s fire.

Someone clears their throat. “Hurry the fuck up.” Cheonsa stands in the door opening, impatient.

“How is Felix holding up,” Changbin asks as they walk through the halls to their destination.

“He’s not,” Cheonsa’s answer is cold, “My offer is still on the table, by the way.”

Changbin ignores that. His sister had offered to execute Chan in his cell, before Felix could find out that his best friend– no, his family, was on trial. But Changbin doesn’t want anyone executed. He just wants to get answers.

Hyunjin pushes the doors to the throne room open, letting them in. Changbin takes one quick look around the room and casts his eyes to the floor as he walks to the throne, disturbed at the entire situation. Everyone is here. Jisung, his dark eyes focused on Changbin, still mad. But Minho stands by his side, leaning on him, looking more distressed than angry. Seungmin is there, in case they need a witness, and he stands next to Hangyeol, who still has the same look of confusion on his face as the day before. His mother– she looks distracted, staring up at the high ceiling. There’s councilmen and noblemen too, all trying to get their nosy needs satisfied, but Changbin can’t be bothered to remember their names.

He’s glad that Cheonsa is there for Felix, taking her place next to him and sliding an arm around his waist, holding him steady on his shaking legs. Changbin finally sits on his throne, propping up his sword against the side of it, and surprisingly, Hyunjin sits down on the smaller chair next to him. If the situation wasn’t so fucked, Changbin would’ve smiled to himself at that. 

“Bring him in,” Changbin’s voice silences the murmurs of everyone in the room.

The crowd gasps when Chan is brought in, arms shackled behind his back and curls in disarray from sleeping in the dungeon. But other than that he looks perfectly fine, not like someone who’s on trial. Changbin ordered the guards not to touch him, for it might kill them, and he’s glad to see that they don’t need to. He is walking forward willingly, head held high.

Chan kneels at the bottom of the steps in front of the throne and Changbin orders the guards to step back. Before he can start with his formal speech and all of those shenanigans, Chan already speaks.

“I confess.” His voice echoes through the room.

Changbin shifts on his seat, completely thrown off. “To what?”

Chan looks at him, dimples in his cheeks as he smiles and says, “Everything and more.”

A million questions run through his head. He made a list the night before, prioritized the things he should ask first, but looking into Chan’s dark eyes, feeling his presence even with the distance between them, there’s only one thing he can ask. “What are you?”

Chan shrugs. “I’m just a man on a mission.”

Changbin reaches out with his shaky fingers to run his hand over the hilt of his sword, feeling the warmth of Hyunjin’s magic run through it. Usually, it calms him down. Now it feels deranged and hot, doing the exact opposite. “What mission,” he demands.

“To make my father proud.” Chan’s eyes widen like he just remembered something. “I told you this, didn’t I? You just didn’t understand the weight of it.”

Changbin sniffs, annoyed and unsettled. Chan is trying to get the upper hand with his calm attitude, so Changbin must mirror it. “Who is your father?"

“Oh, you’ll meet him one day.” Chan looks over his shoulder at the room. “Actually, most of the people here will meet him when they die and return to the Dusk. Except for Felix. He is too good and free of sin.”

Felix tries to take a step forward, tears filling up his eyes, but Cheonsa holds him back. With a sob, Felix finally starts crying.

Chan looks away, ignoring him, but he doesn’t seem unfazed by his friend crying. Perhaps he truly cares about him after all. Chan takes a deep breath and holds Changbin’s eyes. “I’ll tell you everything.” And then, “I’m tired of hiding.” 

“Did you place a curse on us?” Changbin pushes on.

Chan laughs, the sound cold. “I _am_ the curse. You were doomed the moment you met me. Everyone and everything around me–” Chan’s dark eyes seem to pull him in, “everything rots.”

Changbin’s stomach drops as his mind tries to process that, thinking of the rotting trees and failed harvests. It can’t be, right? Is he really that powerful, just from his presence alone? 

Chan continues, “My kind is born without a heart, but my father thought of me as weak, so he gave me the heart of a nameless martyr, because he thought it would suit me. Now I’m cursed with a heart that bleeds over everything I’ve been doing, and yet I can’t stop it.”

Changbin stands, feeling restless in his seat, feeling like he needs to go for a walk or something. It’s like there’s something itching in his veins, urging him to move. He’s angry, sad, disappointed– furious. He looks down at Chan. “What did you do? Be specific. I need answers.” 

Chan looks up at the ceiling, as if he’s trying to recount everything. Then, his next words send a flood of bad memories through Changbin’s mind.

“Remember a group of assassins attacking you after you left the island?” Chan has his head cocked to the side, looking at Hyunjin.

Hyunjin takes in a sharp breath and nods.

Chan looks at Changbin again. “Your father sent those.”

Changbin feels the floor being pulled from underneath him, dizzy. “What– why–” he can barely form any words, shaking his head.

“He thought you weren’t suited for the throne, said you were a disgrace to the family,” Chan pauses, a smile tugging at his lips, “he confessed all of this to me as he was dying from the poison I gave to him.”

The room shifts. 

This time it’s Felix holding Cheonsa back, her sword already in hand. 

Changbin just turns his back on him, facing Hyunjin instead, anything to keep him grounded. He remembers it all so well. The attack on their camp, his friends fighting, Geom biting someone’s head off, and then pissing his pants as he almost got killed before Minho saved him. That was all his father? The assassin mentioned there being a price on his head. How much did his father pay them? He can't afford to even process the fact that his father hated him so much that he wanted him dead, he can't feel that pain right now. 

And Chan poisoned him? Why? With dread in his heart, Changbin remembers that it was him who requested Chan to go to the capital for him when he was still on the island. It’s because of him that Chan managed to get close to his family. The realization makes it feel like there’s a fist around his heart, trying to crush it.

Hyunjin shifts on his chair, leaning forward and reaching his hand out to him. Changbin feels the pull, but somehow his hand moves before he can stop it and he grabs his sword instead, clasping it back on his belt. It feels better like this, safer. Now he can face Chan again.

“Why did you kill my father?” Changbin asks, hand on his sword, much like his sister, but he doesn’t intend to use it.

“He was in the way,” Chan says, “I needed you to be king.”

Changbin feels weak, so he sits on the steps, right in front of Chan. Too close for comfort, but he needs to be close, he needs to look deep in his eyes to somehow understand what he’s telling him.

“You let me into your home, you allowed me to rot the entire city,” Chan explains, and Changbin folds his hands, closing his eyes to stay calm, thoughts piling up, “But still you didn’t trust me, so I had to save your life.”

“The Sinhaean assassin,” Changbin whispers, connecting the dots.

Chan just nods. “He was just a drunk off the streets, paid by me. I painted the Sinhaean flag onto the fabric and you instantly bought it.”

Changbin’s blood is on fire, it’s trying to escape his veins. He has never felt this much anger in his life, disgust even. If he were alone with him, he would spit on Chan’s face. 

From day one, he was uncomfortable around Chan. He knew he was no good, he _knew_ it. And yet, he invited him into his home, allowed him to mess up everything with his presence alone, spreading his energy like cancer. Changbin has to take a deep breath to calm the rage that’s building in his chest, and then he remembers.

“Daehwi. He told me he never met you while he was here.”

Chan clicks his tongue. “That guy could smell me all over the city. Would’ve messed everything up if he met me. He knows my kind too well. One time, his friend got in my way...”

Changbin stands, hand on his sword. He remembers Daehwi mentioning a friend of his who tried to tread into the Dusk and paid for it with his life. His eyes fall on Cheonsa and he can see the question on her face, but he shakes his head. He can handle this. Then, he spots Minho.

“What about the guards? Your powers didn’t work on them.”

Chan huffs a laugh at that. “As a witch, Jihyo has a history with your family, so it was easy for me to convince her. She touched all of them when she came here, remember?” Then, looking at Hyunjin he adds, “She touched Geom too.”

The temperature in the room rises as Hyunjin stands from his seat, but he doesn’t move forward, frozen in rage. Changbin can feel his sword melt through the buckle on his belt, dropping to the floor. But when he reaches down to touch it, it doesn’t feel hot. Instead, it feels like it’s absorbing his anger and sending it back into his body a thousandfold.

Changbin flips the weapon around in his hand, trying to calm himself.

Chan just continues to talk like he’s happy to finally let everything out. “My presence made Hangyeol seek out violence, it made Minho go against his morals and create monsters, Hyunjin’s powers became unhinged. All of them were easy to influence–” Chan smiles, “except for you.”

Changbin can’t stop himself from pointing his sword at Chan. “What the fuck does that mean?” He’s trying to stay calm and composed, but he can’t. He just can’t.

“I’m not allowed to go back home to my father until I make him proud,” Chan pulls at the shackles around his wrists, “I thought corrupting someone like you and bringing down a whole nation, sending him many new souls while I’m at it, would please him.”

“But you haven’t succeeded,” Changbin supplies. Somehow, he takes a step closer to Chan. it’s like an invisible force is pulling him in. Fuck, he’s so angry. He just wants to beat the smile off his face, to strangle him, something. It’s itching in his muscles, makes him tighten his grip around his sword. How can someone be so sick, so evil?

“I didn’t succeed,” Chan’s smile broadens as Changbin takes a step closer, “yet.”

“Changbin,” Hyunjin’s voice is wary, “come back. Come sit down.”

He squeezes his eyes closed, trying to shut out Hyunjin’s voice. He can’t think right now, it’s all too much. It’s getting to him. He wants to fucking cry, scream, anything to let out the rage he’s feeling. So many people died, so many innocent people died because of Changbin, but because of Chan too. Did he cause the war too? No, he doesn’t even want to think of that, his head can’t wrap around it.

The sword shakes in his hand and Chan just watches him, an excited glint to his eyes.

“Changbin–” Hyunjin urges again.

“All of your friends were easy to influence, your family even more so. Don’t you think it’s strange how soft your sister is nowadays?” he continues. 

Cheonsa doesn’t attempt to approach this time. Now she just stands there, next to Felix, equally defeated.

Changbin scratches at his neck, almost pulling blood. He feels like he wants to escape out of his skin, too much inside of him to keep it in. Chan got to everyone he loves while wearing a smile on his face. And he did it all for what? Making his father happy? How can anyone be so sick?

“There was one person who was the easiest. I’ve never seen a brain rot so quickly.” Chan looks over his shoulder to where Changbin’s mother is still staring up at the ceiling, a vacant look in her eyes.

Changbin feels all blood leave his face, paling him as he shakes his head. His heart feels like it’s sludge, slipping from his chest and making room for disbelief. Disbelief and uncontrollable rage. 

“No,” he says, quietly.

Chan nods. “You won’t believe how quickly an old widow invites someone like me into her bed.”

Changbin wants to vomit. He feels dizzy, upside down. How could he have let this happen? It’s his fault. No– it’s Chan’s fault. He takes a step closer. Sword raised. Wait, why is he doing that? And yet he can’t stop it.

“Changbin, no!” Hyunjin calls out and Changbin lowers his sword a bit, shaking.

“Come on, Changbin,” Chan urges, “It would be an honor to die by your sword, didn’t I tell you that?”

“Shut up, shut the _fuck_ up.” Changbin lowers his sword and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes until stars fill his vision. He wants to go away but he can’t move. He’s on fire. He’s frozen. He’s every element raging through his body all at once, urging him to raise his sword again and put an end to everything. Make it all go away.

“I won’t die, Changbin, I’m already dead,” Chan continues, “you would simply be sending me home.”

The tears are hot on his face as he pulls his hands away, sword burning his hand, urging him to move. Hyunjin is pulling at his shoulder, trying to get him back to his seat, but Changbin shrugs him off. He can’t kill someone. He knows he can’t. It’s his number one rule, the one moral he will hold onto for the rest of his life. But he wants to kill Chan. He needs to. It’ll put an end to all of this, it’ll put things back to normal.

He raises his sword and Chan lowers his head, showing him the back of his neck.

“I’m tired, Changbin,” Chan whispers, “This bleeding heart of mine hurts. It hurts with all the pain I cause. Please send me home. End this.”

Changbin feels his muscles tense. He wants it. He wants it so bad. Why does he want it? This isn’t him. He can’t stop. 

He looks at his mother again, watching as a string of drool slips from her mouth as she tries to catch a fly in the air. There’s not much left of her. Changbin feels like there’s not much left of him either.

“Changbin,” Hyunjin raises his voice, “don’t.”

Everything flashes in front of his eyes at once. His father, his mother, all of his friends, the people he loves. The life he could’ve had.

It takes one.

And then another.

And a final third strike of his sword, before it’s over.

Before everything is over. 

A wet, heavy thud of Chan’s head falling to the pristine marble floor, painting it with his clotted, foul-smelling blood.

And then the gut-wrenching scream of Felix who tries to get closer, running towards the body of his best friend. Cheonsa holds him back, a look of disbelief on her face at the fact that she just watched her little brother execute someone. 

Changbin drops his sword, watching the body in front of him bleed out. With horror, he finally realizes that this is what Chan wanted all along. He just wanted to corrupt Changbin and make him finally kill someone. And he got what he wanted. He gave him exactly that, while paying the price of being tainted for life. 

When he looks up, he finds Hyunjin on his knees, sobbing. For him, or for Chan. Maybe both.

He nods to himself, feeling oddly calm, serene almost. This confirms what he knew all along. 

The golden crown feels warm as he takes it off his head, flipping it around a couple of times in his hands. It’s heavy. Too heavy for him. 

He never wanted to be king.

With slow feet, he walks to his sister who’s on the ground, holding an inconsolable Felix in her arms. “I’m done,” Changbin says, voice barely there. But she nods. She understands and takes the crown from Changbin’s hands. He feels lighter already.

He can’t even look at his mother, the coward that he is. Changbin wants to remember her the way she was before. He does stop in front of Jisung, though, sharing a look with him. It’s like a silent conversation. Jisung always understood him so well, before– before everything. His best friend tears up, because he’s probably the only person in the room realizing that this is goodbye.

Changbin looks over his shoulder at Hyunjin, asking him a wordless question with a broken smile. But fortunately, Hyunjin understands and follows him. Going anywhere without him would be meaningless after all. 

And with that, they’re gone. Both of them. Riding out of the capital and going back to where they belong.

Not a king.

Not a deity.

Just Changbin and Hyunjin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the epilogue is up too, please read it and the final note too <3


	7. Epilogue: Godslayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3
> 
> edit: this is a double update. make sure you've read the previous chapter as well!

“I still can’t swim. You know that, right?” Jisung states, the torn down dinghy swaying under his weight as he steps into it. 

“That’s why I’m here,” Jeongin says, leaning over the edge of the little boat. Then, he disappears underwater. 

Soon, Jisung feels a shove against the dinghy, and then he’s being pushed further away from the beach. It reminds him of the first time he was here, over six years ago. He remembers it all too well. The boat tipping over, how the sea nymph that’s now his friend tried to drag him to the depths with his teeth digging into his arm.

Despite the horror of the moment, he remembers it fondly.

He places his gift in front of him, on the other seat of the boat. There’s a ribbon wrapped around the wooden box, keeping its contents safe. Jisung can’t wait to give it to his best friend. 

It’s been six years since he’s seen the island. Which means it’s almost five years since he’s seen Changbin and Hyunjin. 

He wants to feel nervous, and maybe panic a little, but then Jeongin resurfaces and throws a starfish at his head, making him forget all about it. Jisung grimaces as he has to grab the starfish to throw it back at Jeongin. He just misses him by a little, but it’s okay. He feels better already.

Stepping onto the island, he hesitates for a moment, but then he remembers that there is no curse this time, only a barrier. A barrier that Hyunjin has been keeping up all these years, isolating them from the world. But now that barrier is lifted, just for him. 

And for Minho, but his lover didn’t come with him. He needs a little more time to get used to the idea again, his trust still betrayed, and guilt latched onto his heart. But he’ll get over it, Jisung knows him. With a little pushing and prodding from him, of course.

“See you later, kid!” Jisung calls over his shoulder.

“Not a kid!” Jeongin yells back before disappearing under the waves. 

Jisung smiles to himself, and then gets going, box tucked under his arm.

The island has changed quite a bit. There’s paths now, made from hand-split tiles, and one leads him through the forest and into the valley. Seeing the castle again almost takes his breath away. It’s still as beautiful as ever. 

He’s filled with a warm feeling as he walks past the burned tree, the one he set on fire when he was still getting used to his magic. He’s happy that they kept it. Minho’s garden is also still there, but there are more fruit trees than vegetables now. The peaches look ripe, shining under the summer sun, so Jisung stands on his toes and steals one.

It tastes like a dream.

Juice drips down his chin as he eats it, rounding the castle to go to the back. He hears a rhythmic chopping sound, and finds his best friend splitting a log in half with an axe just as he comes into view.

Changbin drops the axe. “Jisung…”

His friend feels warm and so safe as he hugs him tight, almost squeezing the life out of him. Jisung doesn’t want to let go, afraid he’ll disappear again, so he holds on, for a bit. But Changbin finally pulls away, face flushed and looking a bit nervous.

“You grew,” Jisung notes, nodding at Changbin’s stomach.

His friend just slaps it happily. “Living the good life,” and then, “You got old. Does Minho like the beard?”

And just like that, the ice is broken. “He hates it,” Jisung admits, scratching at his chin. 

“Well, if it isn’t the godslayer–” Hyunjin leans against the doorpost that leads into the castle, arms crossed. He hasn’t aged a day. “Are you here to slay me?”

Jisung smiles, spreading his arms to invite him into a hug, an offer that Hyunjin takes up on gladly. “I’m here to be treated to a good meal, actually. Show me what you feed this idiot.”

Hyunjin presses a wet kiss to his cheek and then pulls away. “That idiot learned how to cook, actually. He’s the one feeding me.”

Jisung turns to Changbin and he just shrugs as he scratches the back of his head, feigning humility. 

And feed him they do. They sit by the garden until the sun begins to set, stomach full of food and even fuller with plum wine. They catch up on little things, like their life around the castle, hobbies, and Jisung shares his own little stories. No one mentions the obvious, no one mentions Chan. 

The box sits by his feet, still wrapped.

Finally, when he’s drunk enough, Jisung starts talking. Truly talking.

“Your sister is a great queen, Changbin. The country is thriving”

Changbin pauses, his glass sitting at his bottom lip. He takes a quick sip. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of her.” And then, after another sip, “My mother?”

Jisung takes a deep breath. He hates this, but Changbin will probably hate it more. “Passed a short while after you left.”

Hyunjin puts his hand on Changbin’s shoulder, rubbing it softly. Changbin just nods. He doesn’t seem surprised. 

“Your sister is pregnant, by the way. There’s going to be a crown prince,” Jisung breaks the news quickly, standing to top off their glasses with more wine. They’re going to need a drink for this.

“That’s great!” Hyunjin says, shaking Changbin’s shoulder, who is still a bit lost in thought, until he chimes in and agrees. 

“There’s something you should know, though,” Jisung looks at his feet. He should’ve just told them in a letter. “Felix isn’t able to have kids, because of– stuff,” Changbin nods, so Jisung assumes his friend knows, “So the kid is mine.”

Changbin tips his glass over on the table, wine staining the tablecloth. 

“You had sex with my sister?” Changbin asks, voice raised.

Jisung holds up his hands, quickly waving them. “No, no, no! I would never!”

Hyunjin urges Changbin to calm down. There’s an amused glint to his eyes, like he’s somehow entertained by all of this. Or perhaps Hyunjin is just happy to see them together again.

“There’s other ways,” he explained, “Minho helped. He’s a doctor now, by the way. I’m just a donor. Besides, Cheonsa was the one who came up with the idea.”

“She did?” Changbin raises his eyebrows and so does Hyunjin.

“Yeah, because of my family line. She wanted it to not die with me.” Jisung remembers doing his research after Changbin left, and finding out all the good and all the nasty. It was great to find out where his powers came from, and how powerful his ancestors were as witches. And it was horrifying to find out most of them were slaughtered or enslaved. Even his own mother didn’t know, that’s how successful the Seo family had been in erasing their history. Cheonsa wanted to set it right.

Changbin refills his glass and finally laughs, seeing how harmless the situation actually is. It lightens Jisung’s heart to see him laugh, careless compared to the last time he saw him. But then he remembers why he actually came here, and reaches for the box.

“Minho wanted me to give you this,” he says, putting it in front of them on the table. 

He watches nervously as Changbin and Hyunjin pull at the ribbon together, untying it. “If you don’t want it, you can just make it into an omelet or something,” he adds, trying to take some pressure off.

It’s Changbin who takes the lid off, and it’s Hyunjin whose jaw drops as the content of the box is revealed.

A dragon egg, sitting safely on a bed of hay.

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Jisung can feel his gratitude. 

They bury the egg together, by the same tree that once made Geom. Jisung flinches as Hyunjin makes a fire on top of the hole. It’s been so long since he felt his friend’s power. Changbin grabs him by the shoulder, pulling him in to another, wordless hug. 

Jisung watches the fire with hope in his heart that maybe one day, eventually, if everything goes well…

There will be a dragon in the capital again.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that it's over!
> 
> I wanna use this space to give a big thanks to everyone who read this story. Posting these chapters has been the highlight of my week many times. And I'm so happy with the little group of regular commenters. Just know that I have all of your usernames memorized and that I look forward to your comments every time<3 Thank you a thousand times. 
> 
> I would love to hear from yall what you thought about this story, about the conclusion, or even what your favorite part was of the entire series! I also recommend to maybe eventually reread the whole series so you can see the sheer amount of hints that I've hidden in it. 
> 
> (Also, wanted to point out that Chan's horse name is an anagram Alastor, a demon often referred to as 'the embodiment of a curse'. I'm pointing this one out since it's not an obvious hint, more of an easter egg.)
> 
> I'll be back soon with another fic (for a pairing I've never written before), but after that I'll probably be posting less because I'm gonna start focusing on writing original content! But I'm not retiring from fanfiction just yet.... skz has me in their clutches too tightly....
> 
> I'm also considering writing a short minsung bonus chapter for this to tie up one final loose end.... but no promises! If you wanna stay up to date, please subscribe to me! (to my account, not this fic)
> 
> If you have any questions about this story, about the plot, or about writing, or anything, please leave them down below! I'll make sure to answer all of them diligently. If you're shy, you can always log out and leave one anonymously. 
> 
> I love you all <33
> 
> edit: someone made a book cover edit for this series!!! go check it out [here](https://twitter.com/sfthae/status/1310164914418352129) , it looks amazing!


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